Guardian Angel
by AliceHeart247
Summary: *Trigger Warning for depression* Erik has given up on life completely when he meets a beautiful young woman claiming to be his guardian angel. Can she succeed in saving him from himself, or will he allow his darker nature to consume him? Rated M for language, violence, and thoughts of self-harm.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Trigger Warning! This story has moments of harsher themes of depressive and suicidal tendencies, so if you struggle with these issues, read at your own discretion.**

 **I want to thank you all for deciding to read this. I welcome those of you who are new to my works, and also greet everyone who may have followed me from Down Once More, Swan Song, or Heights! Feel free to leave a review, I am curious to see what you all think about this story. Also, a big thanks to Phanatic01 for helping me with this! Enjoy!**

 _Angel: a spiritual being that serves especially as a messenger from God or as a guardian of human beings_

Erik lay face down in the gutter, feeling the soft rain patter down on his broken sides. It was as if God –were he to even bother to believe such a being existed- only wanted to punish him further. The drops might be small, but each one echoed through his ribs like they were falling knives. The cold of the air chilled through him as he continued to grow damper from the rain. Still, he had not the strength or the will to get up. What was the point? It would only hurt more to have to struggle to his most likely broken leg and then he would fall back into a potentially even more uncomfortable heap. _No_ , he thought, _it was not worth the extra pain._ He decided just to lay there and wait for his inevitable death. Even if he did manage to haul his sad remains up, he would probably be beaten more in a couple weeks. He had experienced this all his life, he knew what to expect.

He tried to take a deeper breath, growing slightly light headed from all of the shallow panting he was doing, but this only brought further pain. He assumed he had several broken ribs to match his leg, his right hand was swelling from a boot that had unceremoniously been stamped down upon it, and he knew he had a black eye on his left side. He wanted to simply waste away already. It was not like he had a lot to live for, after all.

 _Oh, that's just wonderful,_ he thought went he heard a distant clap of thunder. _Just what I need, more rain._

Sure enough, within moments it started coming down hard. He could barely see anything to begin with, but now, with the rain coming down in sheets, all he could make out was damp grey. This thankfully allowed him something of a noise buffer as he assuredly yelled quite loudly as he managed to sit up, leaning against the alley wall tiredly.

 _No, that was definitely worse than I thought it would be,_ he mused, still wincing from the sheer agony that wracked his ever fibre. He sat like this, feeling the cooling rain help calm the uncomfortable heat radiating around his swollen eye and hand. Though a numbness was slowly overtaking his legs, creeping up his fingers, and taking root in the small of his back. He knew the last was something very dangerous to be feeling, but he could not bring himself to fully care. He could not move, he could barely breathe, so why not welcome death?

From out of the misty rain came a single, silvery figure. It was lean and fairly small, but somehow held much power within its presence. It shone a light silver as it approached, stopping just a few feet away from where Erik sat. He ignored it as it stood over him.

 _Perhaps if I look dead or asleep, they'll go away. God! I sound like a child._ He nearly shook his head at his own ridiculous thoughts.

Erik closed his eyes enough to look asleep while watching the figure carefully with hooded lids. He heard a soft sigh before he felt something wash over him. It only occurred to him too late that it was sleep.

* * *

A soft, lilting sound resonated through the air. It was gentle and sweet, filling the space in its shiny echo. Bouncing off the walls lightly, it rang like a spring breeze through his ears as he struggled with consciousness. Everything seemed vague until he tried to sit up, and then everything was undoubtedly fuzzy and now also spinning. Catching hold of what he could, he drove his head forcefully back, trying to assure himself that he was, in fact, not spinning around at a brisk rate. It was only when the circling sensation abated that he was able to comprehend where exactly he was. This information, he found, contrasted greatly from what he had expected.

The grip he had and now realised was causing the dull burning sensation in his hand, was on the bed clothes of his own mattress. The thing he had so ardently pressed his head back against only to feel a slight ringing pain later, was his pillow. He was in his bed, which meant he was in his home, which then meant someone had dragged his unconscious and broken body all the way here.

Instinctively, his hands flew to his face. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the familiar white porcelain still in place and concealing the monstrosity beneath. Thinking about it further, however, he came up short. Who knew about his home besides himself, Nadir, and Madame Giry? The latter had never seen him without his mask, so perhaps it was her. Though, she had not the strength to haul him all that way by herself, and he could not remember anyone else there besides the singular figure in the rain.

Looking around himself again, he noticed his vision was quickly clearing. He was surprised not only to fully realise he was in his home, but also in the Louis-Phillipe room that he had made for reasons of his own vanity and potential boredom. He looked about confusedly, wondering that if the person who had brought him here knew him so well, then why not lay him in his own room. In his coffin.

His musings were somewhat broken as he noticed that still, the gossamer sound of music filtered through his senses. It was one of those sounds that made one wonder if it was always there and one had simply never noticed. It rang through him and made him feel like he were floating upon the wings of a clouded sky.

Looking to the door, he was stunned into silence as it gently opened to reveal the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

It was a young woman with long, flowing curls of chestnut-auburn and large blue eyes that shimmered and shone like sapphires. She wore a simple gown of storm-cloud grey and carried in a tray laden with a cup of tea and a few cloths, bandages, and bowl of clean water. She continued her song as if he were still peacefully asleep and not staring at her as if in some sort of twisted dream.

He watched her as she came over and perched on the edge of the bed, examining his hand from afar. She never ceased her little song and Erik began to feel as if he should know it somehow. As it was, his mind was awhirl with questions as to who this ethereal beauty was before him and why she was so unabashedly close.

'My, my, you have certainly done a number on yourself this time, haven't you?' She observed coolly, breaking effortlessly from her song before picking it back up like it were a breath in a crescendo. She went over to his bedside table and froze, suddenly glaring as her music harshly ceased.

'Morphine? Again?!' She asked of the small bottle beneath the lamp. She picked it up and hurried to the washroom where he distinctly heard her wash it down the drain. 'I worked too hard the last time to get you off that vile stuff. I will not have you relapsing!' She scolded, coming back into the room. Her dress matched her stormy mood perfectly. She stood there, looking at him, though it felt to him more like she was looking through him. She did nothing to acknowledge his gaze. If he did not know better, he would say she was blind.

Finally, her face softened and her shoulders slumped.

'It's all my fault.' She muttered to the floor. 'If I just knew what I was supposed to do, I would do it! I have tried everything, but still, it all ends up the same!' She looked distantly to the ceiling. 'How am I supposed to do this?' she demanded of the heavens. 'Tell me what to do!' She nearly wept.

'You could stop blithering on, for a start.' Erik told her dryly from the bed.

This exacted a great change in her countenance. Her already large eyes grew wide as she stared at him in total shock. He almost wondered if his mask had slipped.

'Y-you can hear me?' She asked as he continued to look at her.

'Unfortunately, yes.' He remarked a little venomously.

'Can-can you s-see me?' She asked, leaning forwards a bit as if she were the one trying to see.

'Distinctly.' He replied, growing a bit unsure of this whole thing.

This time he physically checked his mask's placement as she leapt back several feet, pressing her back to the wall and covering her mouth with her hands. He groaned slightly as the sudden excitement made his heart work harder than it had anticipated in his damaged body. She relaxed in concern over this.

Erik, who had pushed himself up onto his elbows when she had grabbed his morphine, now slumped back painfully onto his pillow. He closed his eyes against the hurt as he tried to control his breathing. He suddenly became aware of a presence hovering beside him and opened his eyes to see her sitting next to him again. She reached out a hand to his chest, but he wincingly pulled away.

'Who the Hell are you?' He demanded, gritting his teeth to the pain.

'I'm Christine.' She answered, her brow puckered with sympathy and –he hated it- pity.

'What are you doing here, Christine?' He asked, noting how her slender fingers snaked effortlessly around his weakly batting arms to touch his chest. He instantly caught his breath and took it in greedily. He looked at her confusedly as she bent forward slightly, wincing and holding her chest. He watched as she took rasping breaths.

'I'm-' She took a short breath in. 'I'm your guardian angel.' She explained, still clutching her chest as if her lungs were refusing to work properly.

'What did you…?' He trailed off, watching her close her eyes to the pain he evidently saw she felt. He sat up quickly, watching with a mix of wonder and horror before noticing he was not in excruciating pain, himself. 'Wait,' he stopped, remembering her explanation to her presence. 'Guardian angel? _You're_ my guardian angel?' He asked incredulously. She whimpered a nod as she tried to regain her breath. Erik looked distantly across the room for a moment, desperately trying to remember what he had been doing in the past few hours. He thought of the morphine bottle, but did not distinctly feel the wooziness that generally accompanied one of his drug induced states of calm. Perhaps he had overdosed, or Nadir had given him something for his injuries and this was all a dream. Yes, a dream seemed far more likely.

She sat up suddenly, plucking him from his thoughts rather sharply. He looked at her as she still struggled a bit before quickly calming her breath. She was back to normal…he supposed.

'I took your rib injuries away.' She explained as if it were nothing. 'Apparently you had a bone jutting into one of your lungs. It was starting to tear, so I fixed it.' She told him with complete calm.

He stared at her a long moment. He looked like a dog who was trying to understand maths. Finally, he found a more humouring side to his confusion and felt, what the Hell? Maybe this could be fun. 'How exactly did you manage that?' He asked, looking at her with limiting patience and he was certain to be obvious lack of sanity. He must be insane to hallucinate a beautiful woman who claimed to be his guardian angel.

She shrugged tiredly at him. 'I literally take your pain. Angels heal much faster than humans so I'm fine now.' She assured as if he were worried. 'I am afraid you will have to wait until tomorrow for the leg, though. I can only heal so much at a time.' She told him calmly.

Erik stared at her blankly again, trying to find a way to accept this ridiculousness with as much calm as she was irritatingly putting forth with minimal effort.

 _I must have overdosed, or perhaps hit my head on something,_ he thought. _Certainly this cannot be real._ He looked at her harder now, squinting a bit to see if she changed any. She did not and he sat back a bit, paying no attention to her slightly worried expression.

'I still do not know how you can see me.' She observed, cocking her head slightly as she regarded him.

'I was wondering the same thing.' He told her, ignoring her unwavering gaze. It was hard to do, but with so many strange occurrences within the last few hours, he knew he could muddle through somehow.

'Perhaps it was because you were injured.' She tried out more to just speak than to fully explain.

'I've been injured worse before.' He noted dryly. 'Or were you not an angel then?' He asked, feeling the barbs in his tone. He thought of all of the injustices he had been dealt over the years. If there were such things as guardian angels, then he got the broken one.

 _Of course I got the broken one. It's my job to receive every short stick known to man._ He thought to himself.

'Did you ask for me?' She looked at him questioningly. He shot her a glare that told her that was most definitely not how they were going to explain it.

'How could I ask for you if I did not even knew you existed until just a moment ago?' He asked her, feeling his temper rising steadily. It was as if she were not even thinking her words through.

'Did you ask for God?' She tried.

Erik glowered at her even more with this one. 'Hardly. He and I do _not_ get along.' He told her sternly.

Something in her amazingly vibrant eyes darkened. 'Did you give up?' She asked, looking at him deeply. Her voice was low yet small, as if she did not want to say the words.

'Give up on what, life?' He asked, looking at her sceptically. She nodded slowly as if accusing him of something. 'So what if I did? Are you going to alert the angel Sûreté to my sudden plight in conscience? Well go ahead! It's not like I have anything to live for anyways!' He snapped, watching her shrink from his side. He wondered why he felt so angry when he was not even certain she was real, but the idea of yet another person being disappointed in his existence set him off.

She rose silently and fluidly from the bed, looking at him with quickly watering eyes. 'I would never do something like that to you. I only want to protect you.' She told him in a small voice.

'Well you've done an excellent job of that over the years!' He yelled, feeling the heat rise to his head, making it throb slightly.

Her brimming eyes overflowed as she caught a sob in her throat. 'I'm sorry, Erik.' She said before practically flying from the room.

He watched her go, once more amazed by her. She knew his name, and she said it so wonderfully.

* * *

After a few minutes of being alone, he started to wonder if he had come back to a normal state of consciousness. He had run over the past few hour's events thoroughly in his head and had come to no definite solution to this mysterious, yet beautiful girl's existence in his home. He thought briefly that maybe the best option would be to just continue humouring her and see where things lead. At the very least, he needed to get out of the bed and move around. He hated being trapped in one place and the idea of a strange woman -or angel, if she was to be believed- wandering around his house was not a pleasurable one to him.

Though he could now breathe and move his upper body well, his leg still gave him trouble. He realised as he shuffled his lower body out from under the quickly stifling comforter that this Christine had put a splint on his right leg, securing the break. How she had managed to care for him so well amazed him, but he supposed that if she were what she claimed to be, then nothing could truly stand in her way. _How freeing that must be_ , he thought dryly.

Hobbling out of the room, he noted that the drawing room was warmly lit by the fireplace. Everything looked just as he had left it but all felt slightly warmer. Something about the place had changed. It was more than a simple domicile, or the place Erik forced himself to remain to avoid such infractions with the natural world as he had experienced so painfully earlier, it had become a true home. He had never really had a home before, but the places he had been that came anywhere near it felt vaguely like this. There was a lightness as well as a suffocating weight to the air that spoke of more than just one cold being breathing it in. He saw on the sofa before the fire place the brunette beauty he had been seeking.

He came over and watched her for a moment. She was staring distantly at the fire as tear tracks failed to dry from the still flowing droplets. Her pale, ivory skin shone, as did her whole being. She seemed like she held an inner light to her as if he were seeing into a silver lined coffee pot. Her grey dress only accentuated this. But it was her eyes that drew his attention the most. Most blue eyes held a washed out version of the colour, but hers were so vibrant and bright it made one wonder if they were real. In the light of the fire they deepened somehow further, shining more cobalt. He was struck by their intensity and found words dying on his lips. It mattered little, it seemed, for she turned and spoke for him.

'Erik! You should not be up. Oh, and your leg is still hurt.' She fluttered about him, looking curiously like a butterfly.

'Christine,' he said it firmly, but something in it refused to come out lacking elegance. Her name was simply too lovely to mar with a disregard for its natural beauty. She stopped and looked at him, her eyes looking like they were about to fill with tears once again. He took a breath.

'Say I believe you, and that you are an angel.' He told her not being able to look at her as he conceded to something. 'Then that means that I am meant to believe in God, yes?' He looked up at her now.

She thought for a moment, biting her cheek. 'Not necessarily. You can believe whatever you like. I have never actually met God, so I cannot say for certain. All I know is that I am your guardian angel.' She told him, shrugging it off.

Once more he was growing impatient with her passiveness.

'But you are an angel. Angels were made by God.' He explained steadily.

'Yes, but guardian angels are different. We were once human. I suppose we did something very good to earn the position.'

 _Of course they are,_ he thought, mentally rolling his eyes at the convenient excuses religion always seemed to make up for itself. 'What did you do?' He asked, curiosity taking over his frustration.

'I do not know.' She looked down at the floor.

'Well, how did you die?' He pressed.

'I do not know that either. I do not remember any of my life before. I was only told that my name was Christine and that I was supposed to look after you. Heaven never told me how or why; they simply wanted me to keep you safe, I suppose.' She glanced up at him, seeing his frustration growing again. She knew from experience that he did not like not knowing. He sighed hotly and closed his eyes.

'So Heaven is real, then?' He asked.

'I suppose it is.' She said as if she had never thought about it before. He nearly throttled her for her lack of concern or rational thought, but sufficed to press his tongue to the front of his teeth and look down at the floor. This girl, angel or not, was infuriating.

He stood there for a moment, trying to regain his quickly slipping patience. He was too busy with this to notice how light his head was becoming. It was not until he uncontrollably slumped into Christine that he realised his strength was going from being on his leg so long. She gave a slight cry before completely catching him off guard once again. As he fell into her, instinctively grabbing hold of her fortuitously outstretched hand, she instead slipped her arm around his shoulders as best she could and used the other to catch the backs of his knees. She stood up, him in complete shock in her arms while she casually started to carry him back to the Louis-Phillipe room. He could find no words of protest or simply any words as a girl who barely came up to his collarbone carried him like he was nothing but a feather. Now he desperately worried for his sanity. Last he had checked, it was fairly limited, but now he feared it had completely left him.

She set him down gently on the bed as he continued to gaze at her in disbelief. She was just pulling the covers up over him again when his voice found itself.

'How did you do that?' He asked wonderingly.

She looked at him with that same, unnerving calm. 'The same way I got you all the way back here in the first place.' She remarked.

He somehow found the presence of mind to glare at her for her vague answer, but she did not seem to notice. He then thought of what she had purportedly saved him from. 'Who said I wanted to come back?'

She looked at him earnestly at this. She gazed deeply into his amber eyes, hidden partially by the shadows of his mask.

'Erik, I will not let you throw your life away simply because you do not see any value to it.' She told him with complete conviction in her tone.

He was about to ask what she would do to stop him if he tried to defy her, but thought better of it. As it was he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Something told him that she had a power in that. Slowly, he slipped off to sleep on the drifting tones of her song. Her voice rang through his home like none other's and he began to wish he could stay conscious long enough to hear the end this time.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: As some of you may have noticed, I am posting on a different schedule than my previous stories. (Sorry!) Because the chapters are much longer, it takes more time to write, and also school will be starting back for me and I do not want you all to be waiting for chapters. So, for this story you will have to live with chapters on Monday and Friday. Believe me, I want to post this more often, but just cannot keep up the writing pace to do so. On the up side, you will not have to wait long over the weekend.**

 **Thank you ShadowsInTheMind, Phanatic01, iPannzSoccerz, Child of Music and Dreams, and PocketRobotN for following/favouriting this!**

Erik awoke much like he had before, groggy and in pain, but at least his ribs allowed him to sit up now. He was just wondering if he had dreamt it all when he happened to look over and see Christine in a chair beside the bed, a book calmly resting in her hands.

'So you are real,' he murmured.

She looked up at this, setting the book in her lap. 'How do you feel?' She asked, her brow pinching slightly in concern.

He glowered at her. 'How do you think I feel?' He asked flatly.

She shot him a look of mild annoyance before putting the book aside and coming over to him. He instantly leaned away from her closeness. She paused as he shied from her, but only looked down before continuing her perch beside him.

'I can heal your hand and eye, or your leg. I will let you choose.' She explained patiently.

'Oh, will you, now?' He shot back at her.

'You do not need to snap.' She retorted sharply.

'Do I not? I am the one stuck here in bed being watched over by someone who claims to be an angel. I believe I am within my rights.' He could have blown fire from his nose with that, only making her prickle more.

'Well, it's your fault for letting those beasts hurt you so badly. And if you do not want my help, then fine!' She stood up, clutching her fists tightly.

'I never asked for your help!' He shouted, watching her tromp over to the door.

'I know!' She practically screamed before slamming the egress firmly.

Erik winced at the force she had used on his home, but was too worked up to care. His leg shot pain all the way down to his toes and he growled at it. Ripping the cover from the bed, he stormed out of the room after the supposed angel. He ignored the intense pain he was in and marched to the kitchen where he found her leaning over the sink.

'Get out!' He ordered, making her jump. 'Get out of my house and get out of my Opera!' He pointed through the house to the front door.

'You think I do not want to?! I am bound to you, Erik! I cannot leave!' She spat, remaining where she was, but watching him fly up to her with growing concern.

'Leave.' He seethed, feeling his hands itching to wind their way around her thin neck. _It would be easy enough_ , he thought.

'I. Cannot.' She told him firmly, staring down the flaming fury in his blazing amber eyes. Even his bad eye opened enough through the bruise to show his unmatched anger.

He regarded her for a moment, still clawing to choke her. He hated her. He hated that she was there. He hated how calm she always was. He hated how she had helped him when all he had wanted was death. He even hated the truth that shone in her eyes when she told him she could not leave.

'I liked you better when I could not see you.' He put so much poison into his tone he thought her subtle form would simply melt away, and to some extent it did. Her somehow harsh brows relaxed back into their normal soft curves, her eyes once like blue flames softened and seemed to melt, and her shoulders fell before starting to quiver.

Erik stepped back as she started to sob silently, tears rolling down her pink cheeks. For some reason, seeing all of this on her washed away his anger. He watched her look ahead distantly as she struggled to contain herself.

'Christine,' he almost reached out to her as he instantly softened. He had not intended to make her so upset. He had not even realised he had somewhat confirmed his belief in her words. He was still not entirely sure as to whether he believed her to be an angel, but a girl she most clearly seemed to be, and he had made her cry.

She shook her head at his approach and ducked her chin, letting a heart wrenching sob free.

'Christine, stop. I…just stop crying. Please stop it.' He started to beg as she crumpled before him. He recoiled from her, not knowing what to do. 'Please stop.'

She looked up at him, somehow still beautiful with tears coursing down her face.

He felt his legs give out, coming down to sit before her rather gracelessly. She leaned forward to help him but pulled back, shrinking slightly from anticipated reprimands.

He watched her do this, looking aside regretfully. 'I-I think it would be best if you fixed my leg.' He mumbled, not meeting her mildly surprised eyes.

She sniffled back her tears a bit and shakily reached out to his leg. Her gaze flicked to his as she neared him. He met it and looked down at his leg purposefully. She cautiously undid his splint wincing along with him as she did so. Finally, she let her fingertips touch right where the break radiated its indescribable pain.

Instantly she doubled over, letting out a cry that sent him into a panic as she sobbed again, letting her other hand clutch at her own leg. He had known it hurt, but he had been able to put it aside to focus on his frustration. He had been injured far worse before, but she…this girl had surely never experienced such agony. His hands echoed over her shaking form as she cried into the floor from the sheer pain that now coursed through her instead of him.

Stealing himself, he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom, resting her on the bed. He hovered over her, rubbing his now sore hand. He stood there in silence for he did not care to think how long as she tried to suppress her tears.

Slowly, she seemed to come back round. She looked up at him and took his hand before he had the chance to pull it away. He felt his soreness leach out of it at her touch. He gripped it a few times before he looked back down to her. Her eyes were closing tiredly. She seemed exhausted and he realised she had overtaxed herself to help him.

'Christine, y-you did not need to-'

She held up a slender finger. 'I will take care of your eye when I wake up, and then I will disappear again.' She told him before showing something that dazzled his every sense.

She smiled.

He realised that he had never witnessed it before. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It softened her eyes even more, her rose petal lips curved wonderfully, and her very essence relaxed.

He marvelled at this before she passed out.

* * *

Erik sat at in his favourite chair in the drawing room, long fingers steepled before his lips as he gazed at the fire. He wound his thoughts round and round again as he awaited Christine's return to consciousness. He had sat in the bedroom for some time as well, watching her. It was odd to think that an angel needed sleep, but she at least had the excuse of having just healed him rather drastically. He caught himself more than once using that title for her. He wondered if perhaps she was right. He shook his head at this. How could she be? And yet, how could she have healed him like that if she were not? He still toyed with his hand a bit, enjoying the sensation without pain. His eye still hurt, but he was not about to complain of such things at present. She had done far more than enough as it was.

He turned slightly when he heard the incredibly soft padding of her feet as she came out into the room. It surprised him that she made any sound at all. Certainly one of the Heavenly Host would be noiseless. Mentally shrugging, he looked over to see her eyes uncertain as to his mood.

'Sit.' He offered with a wave of his hand. She took the chair beside his own, neatly folding her hands in her lap.

'I am sorry for the trouble I caused.' She told him quietly, not meeting his eye.

'It is nothing. Just, try not to cry too often.' He cringed from the memory of her tears. 'I think,' he began. 'That there are a few things that we need to discuss.' He looked at her expectantly, hoping for an ascent to the proposition. She nodded encouragingly. He sighed. 'How long have you been…watching me?' He forced out, still not happy about the idea.

'Since you built the Opera. Though, I only recently discovered I could heal you.' She answered.

'And how, pray tell, did you discover this?' He asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

'You hurt yourself when you went into withdrawals from the morphine. I was also able to lessen their effects. Thus how you are still alive.' She gestured to him. He huffed a laugh. _If this is what you call life_ , he thought dryly.

'You said earlier that you had worked hard to get me off the stuff. What did you mean you? Nadir was the one who practically chained me to a wall.' He let slip a bit of venom into his tone which she frowned at.

'It took a lot of work for me to make sure Nadir found the evidence of your addiction. I'm not very good at touching tangible things, but for your health I worked until I could move the needles out for him to see. I knew he would not let you go down that horrid path.' She looked away from his accusing glare.

'I knew I had not left those simply lying around.' He deduced, remembering the occasion vividly, along with some of the choice words he and the Persian had shared.

Christine stifled a laugh at this. She enjoyed this side of Erik. He was always pretending to know everything, so when he had a mystery to solve, his childlike curiosity came forth. He caught her gaze and she arguably was successful in hiding her mirth. He knew by the glisten in her eyes, however, she had been laughing at him.

'Why do you feel the need to meddle in my affairs?' He asked, his tone becoming more defensive and accusatory.

'I do not meddle,' she told him calmly. 'I simply drive you away and out of dangerous situations. Believe me, you have a penchant for finding trouble I cannot get you out of. There have been more than a few times I have been able to do nothing but watch as you nearly killed yourself.' She laughed sardonically, turning away from the thought of those occasions.

'Name one.' He challenged.

'Oh, when you nearly electrocuted yourself trying to get power down here, or the time you punched the bathroom mirror so hard you imbedded glass in your hand so deep that you had to work for twenty minutes to get it out, but I think my favourite was the time you decided to walk the streets aimlessly and not bother to fight back when someone jumped you. I must say, though, that last one was a trick.' She looked at him pointedly, a defiant eyebrow raised as he tried to make some form of come back.

He merely grunted impatiently and rose, pacing the floor. 'I said name one, not three.' He muttered.

Christine shook her head. She adored his childish side until it blended with his stubbornness. Then things became difficult.

He continued pacing for a bit, expecting her to stop him. Nadir always hated it. He stopped and looked at her in puzzlement.

'Are you quite done interrogating me?' She asked at length.

'No,' he replied flatly, though he truly did not have another question ready.

'How did you find me yesterday when I was not here? I thought you said you could not leave.' He reasoned, standing a bit taller for his own cleverness.

'I believe what I said was that I am bound to you, not the house. I can leave whenever you do. I am meant to stay by your side.' She explained, patiently growing frustrated by his continued gloating.

'How far away can you be from me?' He asked, growing uncomfortable.

'About the length of this house, not including the passageways in the walls.' She estimated, squinting as she thought on this. 'I don't follow you _everywhere_ if that is what you mean.' She smirked at his rising colour. He was so pale that it was immediately obvious when he was deeply embarrassed. He turned away.

'So, about ten metres, then.' He confirmed.

'You are the architect, you tell me.' She sighed at his dramatics.

'What happens when you go beyond that point?' He asked, for surely she had tried.

She looked away at this, fighting back the memory. 'I feels like I am being unmade.' She said just above a whisper. Erik's eyes widened, now curious how many times she had tested this simply to get away from him. Certainly no one would willingly wish to remain in his company for as long as she claimed. Removing that choice must be like living in Hell.

'You say you do not know why you were assigned to watch over me.' She nodded. 'So why do it at all? Are you not supposed to be enjoying loved ones' never ending company in Heaven?'

'I was chosen to be this. And why would I not? Who else is going to look after your bony ass?' She looked at him incredulously.

He whirled round to stare at her in amazement. She must have sensed something of the impropriety of her words and quickly ducked her head. 'I am sorry.' She muttered, feeling a heat rise up the backs of her arms to flood her cheeks.

Erik could not take it anymore, he simply burst out laughing as her embarrassment only deepened. 'I see you have been around Nadir long enough to pick up a few of his favourite names for me.' He laughed, filling the quiet air with his tenor voice. 'I knew you could not be as innocent as you claimed. No one completely pure could possibly stand me. Even if the alternative was incredible pain.' He laughed more as she looked up at him somewhat defiantly. 'It only serves that you would become more like me.'

She stood up in a flurry of her grey skirts, standing before him much as he had earlier in the kitchen. She glared at him strongly, wordlessly demanding his full attention.

'I am nothing like you! You are selfish, arrogant, and unkind to those around you. You complain that the world hates you, but you will not let even your closest friends in. You either sit, wallowing in self-pity, or torment the innocents around you. You help no one but yourself without any care to the consequences. You admire all that is beautiful in the world but shun it before it can touch you. Sometimes I wonder if you are worth saving!' She yelled before storming past him.

With a growl, he turned with her, catching her arm and swinging her round to face him. He held her tiny throat in his hand feeling her warmth just beneath his fingertips. He said nothing, but looked into her large blue eyes. Once he saw what he was looking for, he let his face break into disgusted hatred.

'You fear me.' He accused. 'Do not forget that.' He let her go harshly, turning to go into his bedroom with a sharp slam of the door.

Christine clutched at her throat, watching him go. She had seen him snap before, but never had the experience for herself. It was still odd to have him be able to touch her and see her, which was where most of the fear came from. She despised these moods he always got himself into. It would not do for anyone to be around him when he was like this.

Walking over to his door, she pressed her ear against it, but all she could hear was heavy breathing. Suddenly, she was forced backwards as some article of furniture was hurled at the door. She had heard the cry of frustrated effort from within, but had not expected the sudden attack. She held back the tears she did not want to cry and hurried off to the Louis-Phillipe room, closing the door and shunning the man who would try to open it again.

* * *

 _How dare she? How_ dare _she?! She had no right to take moral high ground with him!_ Erik fumed. He could still hear her silvery voice, hot with rage as she spat such vile accusations at him. He hated each and every word. He growled at the voice in his head which told him he only hated them because they were true. _Of course they are true! But she had no right to hold them against him! He had never said he was perfect._

Slumping down to the floor, he let his arms exhaustedly stretch out over his knees. He tried to catch his breath as he ignored the wreckage of what once was his nightstand before he had thrown it at the door. He felt that pit inside of him begin to open and call to him. He wondered why he even bothered getting upset. It was not as if there was anyone real to care about. Christine had apparently spent the better part of two decades in his presence, and both of which she was completely invisible to him.

 _But saying that simply because you could not see her makes her non-existent is like saying the same for the Opera Ghost._ He cursed that voice of reason in his otherwise far gone mind. Yet here he was, sitting five cellars below the Opera he loved to torment so well. And she was sitting somewhere else in his house, most likely thinking him a wretch and a monster. _Well,_ he thought, _perhaps she is finally right about something._

Suddenly, just outside his room, he heard that beautiful voice. It was a different song, but it still beckoned his senses to it. Quietly going over to his door, he listened to the sound. It seemed to be to the right of the door and down a good bit. Opening it slightly, he peeked out to see Christine sitting with her back against the wall, knees pulled up, and eyes distantly ahead. She did not seem to notice him as she continued to sing.

Sliding quietly down the door frame, he sat and listened to her. She had a sort of haunting tone to her voice as she continued, drawing him further and further out of his spiralling abyss of self-loathing. She had no words to her tune, simply melody. It seemed to lift him up and carry him far away. Focusing only on her singing made him feel as if nothing else in the world mattered.

When she finished, he rose once more and leaned out to look at her. She seemed to glow with an inner light of silver. Her dress, gently shimmering in the firelight, made her appear unearthly. Of course, she _was_ unearthly. She was an angel. He inwardly sighed at his own submission to the name for her.

'Christine,' he beckoned to her, feeling his chest tighten slightly as she looked up to him. He seemed to deliberate his words carefully before speaking again. 'Would you care to accompany me to the Opera? I have to pick up my salary.'

'You mean your extortion money.' She corrected with a cynical grin.

'I work for it.' He defended somewhat weakly. She merely rolled her eyes before standing.

'Not that I have a choice but to follow you, but yes, I will join on your little trip into humanity.' She smiled a little more truthfully. Something about her tone, though matched with biting words, did not suggest she wished to argue with him.

Erik nodded, leading the way as he grabbed his cloak and hat from the stand inside the door. They left the home to be greeted by the cool, damp air of the underground lake of the cellar. He glanced over his shoulder to check to see if Christine, whose bear arms were exposed to the cold, was chilled at all. She did not seem to be affected in the slightest by the temperature change, so they continued over to the boat. He helped her in as any gentleman would, which earned him a surprised look and excited smile. She clearly was not used to this sort of contact.

Rowing them gently across the glassy waters, Erik looked down to find her absolutely fascinated by the liquid. She trailed her fingers through it so delicately he wondered if she thought it would break somehow. He nearly laughed at this childish interest when she looked up to see the amused light in his seemingly glowing eyes.

'I never get to touch it.' She explained. 'This is the first time I have really gotten to interact with the world.' She continued, looking down with mild embarrassment.

'How, then do you not fall through the boat?' He asked, ignoring the bigger question of how she stayed on this layer of the earth itself.

'I do not generally ride with you. I walk on the water.' She told him as if it were nothing.

Erik stopped their progression to stare at her. 'You walk…on water?' He asked, still trying to envision it.

She looked at him as if it were the most obvious thing she could have said.

Before he could say or do anything, she stood up in the boat, locking eyes with him as she lifted a leg out over the edge. He nearly lunged forward when it touched the surface of the water. She did not fall, however. She simply rested on the very top of the lake, getting only a little wet on the very bottoms of her shoes.

'The trick,' she told him calmly. 'Is not to look at the water. If I do, I will fall in,' she went on. 'It is like performing. If you think about it, you will fail.' She smiled at his shocked expression.

Suddenly, she threw herself into the most beautiful dance he had ever seen. She hummed her own music, allowing her voice to fill and surround them in the tunnelling cavern. She danced to make a ballerina swoon, and never lost her breath in her song. Erik remained in his frozen position in the boat, watching, mesmerised by her movements across the water. Whenever she would lift her leg so fluidly, a small line of water would follow as if she were dancing on a slightly dampened floor. She stopped abruptly before running hard yet gracefully and leaping into the most beautiful Grand Jeté he had ever seen. Even Madame Giry, the strict ballet mistress she was, would have been impressed.

Landing lightly, Christine turned to see Erik's awed smile. She made her way back to the boat before calmly retaking her place within it.

'Where did you learn that?' He asked when he could once again catch his breath.

'From watching the ballet corps in the Opera. You spend a lot of time by the stage, so I often see them rehearsing and occasionally mimic them.' She answered easily. She was not breathing heavily in the slightest, though she had just demonstrated a very difficult routine.

'How are you not out of breath?' He asked in wonderment.

'I do not grow tired, and generally do not sleep unless I have over-reached with my healing abilities.' She shrugged casually.

Erik regarded her for a moment before shaking his head and continuing to pole the boat through the still waters. They made good time, reaching the dock at a gentle glide. He tied the boat off swiftly before leaping like the agile cat he so often resembled and then offering a hand to Christine. Again, she was surprised by the gesture, but readily accepted. Erik, too, felt happy taking her small, delicate hand in his own. Her minimal weight did not surprise him quite so much as the shock that ran down his arm at her tender touch as he helped her to join him at the dock. He found himself oddly pausing, simply admiring her in the limited light. Somehow she managed to shine even in the near darkness of the tunnel, illuminated only by the lantern he had lit upon leaving the house. Her eyes sparkled in the flickering flames with luminous life.

She felt his eyes upon her, and for some unknown reason she grew uncomfortable. How many times had she wished just once for him to see her? How many times had she watched over him while he did something that would most undoubtedly get him hurt? And yet, now that he could see her, now that he was holding her hand, she found she could not look at him. She averted her eyes to the ground and felt the heat rush to her cheeks.

Erik realised he was staring when he saw her blush. He looked quickly away, but could not bring himself to let her hand go. Some small part of him spoke of disappearance and loss of her if he broke contact. Fumbling over words, he managed to get them going up the familiar path to the Opera.

Christine knew these tunnels as well as Erik did as she had been looking over his shoulder when he went over his own plans for the building as well as having followed him for many a year through their winding paths. He was a remarkable architect, helping take over the project of the grand building and also managing to sneak by a few alterations here and there. He had rearranged workmen so that no one would know of his secret tunnels and pathways throughout the Opera and he had hidden the altered plans effortlessly within seconds should someone walk by. It was this that showed him to be a true genius in her eyes. Mad and morally unsound, but a genius nonetheless. He could kill someone easily, but he could use those same skeletal fingers to compose music to make even the hardest of hearts weep like a child, and it was with aforementioned fingers that he now held her hand so carefully. She humoured him and allowed him to lead the way, though she had long since memorised every nuance and trap he had so painstakingly laid along the familiar path.

It was only when they made a different turn and came to a long, slightly greyed window that she realised he had chosen they come to the dressing-room entrance. He could have simply gone through a separate route and come out in Box 5 through a column in the wall and collect his salary which awaited him on the red velvet seat. She looked at him questioningly as he waved her through the now opened portal of the two-way mirror. She nodded dutifully before stepping into the richly decorated room. All of the lights were out and the Opera seemed oddly quiet.

'Where is everyone?' She asked, looking back at him as he noiselessly slid the mirror back into place.

'It is yet still early. I doubt anyone is awake.' He told her, gliding past her to the door. 'I was supposed to pick up my payment yesterday evening, but certain…events disallowed me from doing so.' He continued, again holding the door open for her.

They expertly wound their way through the many halls and passageways backstage before coming out into the seating area. He led her through to the hall for Box 5, taking note that she still followed him. He somehow felt as though she would fly from his side.

Christine could not help it. No matter how many years she had spent here, no matter how many times she had made this same pilgrimage with him, she was always amazed by the stunning details around her. The sheer magnificence of the building surrounded her and demanded her attentions wherever she turned. Every time she walked through these elegant halls and those few occasions Erik had ventured into the Grand Foyer, she would find herself gazing at every miniscule finesse of his and Monsieur Garnier's designs.

Erik turned to regard her as she simply stared at everything around her. He ran his eyes over the hallway, trying to see it from her point of view. She, herself, looked especially wonderful when paired with the building. Her long chestnut curls added a grace he had not known could compliment his structure so perfectly. Her cream skin glowed beautifully in an oddly fitting contrast to the gold accents of the walls. The same could be said for the unnatural blue of her eyes and the dark burgundy and ruby reds of the wallpaper and seats. He found himself smiling as she beheld the masterpiece he had worked so hard on. He wondered what she had thought of it when it was being built. He vaguely remembered a few occasions during the construction where it seemed a miracle he had not fallen or injured his hands or been hurt in some way.

 _Surely that must have been her doing,_ he thought, never one to believe in coincidence. He knew she had not been able to fully manipulate the world around him back then, but certainly she must have figured out some sort of solution.

Going back to the door to his box, he entered, leaving Christine to look around in the hallway. He looked down at the stage, noting that no one was down to practice for the upcoming performances yet. It was still early before the next season started, though, so not much could be expected. He changed his attentions down to the crimson seats he knew so well and instantly felt something within him snap. There was no ivory envelope awaiting his collection.

Immediately fuming, he bellowed out as many curses as he could think of in the multiple languages he was fluent in. He stormed out of the box, too angry to notice the hall's emptiness. He was certainly not in the mood, nor the presence of mind to hunt down Christine at this moment. Not when he was so ardently calling for the fool managers' heads on a pike.

It was only when he was half-way to their office that he realised that he was alone. His mind quickly began to whirl, worrying quite suddenly over the light creature's absence. He knew he had taken off at a strong pace and that it was incredibly painful for her to be apart from him. He nearly caught himself as to being so concerned over her, but was too panicked and still enraged to think about that.

'Christine?!' He called, hearing the lonely echo that answered him. He decided to double back, immediately envisioning her small and slight form crumpled in unimaginable suffering. He cursed under his breath as he worked his way back, searching every shadow and corner. He made his way to the main seating of the auditorium, knowing the dimensions of the space far exceeded her range of distance from him. He spun on the spot, now growing frantic.

'Christine?' He felt his voice break as he realised she was gone. He wondered if this was how children felt when separated from their parents. He looked at the floor furiously as he fought to understand why he cared so much.

 _You damned sentimental fool! You only met her yesterday! Why grow attached at all? Just because she yelled at you and helped you does not make her yours. Besides, everyone leaves you eventually._ He felt the cold hand of emptiness overtake him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to push out the memories of her. He had so few, after all. That was when he felt an odd relief come over his face. Opening his eyes, he realised he could see from both clearly. Feeling the lid through the hole in his mask proved his black eye was gone. He searched again for any sign of the beautiful girl, but found only empty seats.

He turned somewhat solemnly back to go to the manager's office, already plotting what he would do to them for missing his payment. He would remind them with a letter first, and if his fury was not quelled sufficiently, they would quickly be reminded who they were dealing with.

Meanwhile, Christine sighed. It had been so sweet to have had a chance for him to see and know her. She was surprised initially when he had burst from the box, though she had seen such displays enough before to guess what the matter was. He had swept right past her without giving a second glance or even first glance, for that matter. He had moved at an alarming rate, but she smirked at how dramatic his cloak looked flaring out behind him as he rounded corners sharply. She assumed it best to wait until he had cooled down enough to think before asking what was wrong in what she was preparing to be the best performance of innocence the world had ever known. That is, until he had stopped abruptly.

He had looked around the room, turning and staring right at her as he called her name. She answered, but he only proceeded to walk right through her. She had to catch her breath after this. She had grown slightly worried, but having it confirmed so suddenly frightened her more than she had anticipated. She stood for a moment, gasping from the shock as he continued to search for her. She was forced to follow him into the auditorium with its hundreds of seats all elegantly fashioned in fine red velvet. She felt pity and sorrow crease her brow as he looked wildly round for her, calling her name again.

It broke her heart to know that he was so blindly lonely that even her short time with him mattered so much. His frantic eyes were shining their wondrous golden with worry etched into their ever fleck of shimmering amber. She watched despairingly as he forcefully tried to shun the emotions which were quickly overtaking his suddenly shrinking form. Reaching up to him, she did the only thing she could think of to reassure him she was there. She healed his eye, feeling the heat of the bruise flow to her own face. She smiled through the pain, as his surprise brought him out of his pit of solitude.

 _Yes,_ she thought. _This is the least I can do for you._ She watched him straighten, his true mask of independence returned as he marched off to most undoubtedly rain Hell upon the poor, unfortunate managers. They would be wondering, not for the first time, why they could not have taken over a ghost free opera.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine watched as Erik wrote a furious note to the managers, stealing a few of their personal effects from their office for the trouble. He had a harshly elegant way of writing that she found oddly fascinating. His curving letters filled the ivory parchment in their ruby ink. She followed him as he went about delivering the threat, sealing it with a wax skull in his usual dramatics, shaking her head at the ominousness of the black envelope. It really was a silly practice, but so long as he did not see her, she assumed something was going properly. She shivered at the cause for her appearance. He had given up on life completely. She had known him to have darker moods before, but never like this. Now that he had a distraction, he was better. Not that she approved of the form of the distraction, mind you. She simply did not begrudge his sudden rediscovery of hope and life.

He decided to hide in the wall of the office after delivering the note, vowing to await the fools' return patiently. Christine grew bored of this and chose to wander aimlessly about the room, reading the headlines of the newspaper folded upon the desk. She was tempted to try to move it to read the rest, but a quick intrusion of their long anticipated guests interrupted her thoughts on the matter which seemed of little importance. The goings on of the real world seemed insignificant unless they effected Erik. Which, given his reclusive nature, almost never did.

'I cannot believe it.' One of the managers, Firmin Richard, she thought. She could barely keep the two straight. They did little in the theatre beyond wooing patrons and occasionally yelling at people as if they knew what they were doing. 'Another of those damned letters.' He picked up and carelessly waved Erik's black envelope.

'Oh, what could it be _this_ time?' The other, Armand Moncharmin, groaned. The man tiredly slumped into a chair, assuming the worst.

'He insists that we pay him his salary.' Firmin announced with a dry laugh. 'As if he had earned it. What, pray tell, could a ghost possibly do for a theatre to warrant 20,000 francs a month? And what would a ghost need with such earnings?' He scoffed, tossing the note aside.

'Firmin, what is his threat?' Armand asked, growing a bit more concerned.

'Oh, something about a great tragedy, you know his normal shtick. I never happens, though.'

'Because we always pay him. Remember the day we first came, a cast member nearly lost their head from a falling piece of scenery.' Armand insisted, growing pale at the thought.

'Yes, well,' Firmin admitted reluctantly. 'I find it quite ridiculous that we should listen to the petty rumours of the ballet rats and the half-drunk stage hands.'

Christine, from where she stood beside the wall Erik hid within, could feel his hatred and fury radiating out into the room. The managers must have felt something of it too, for they quickly grew silent, looking about as if they were being watched.

'You do not believe in me, eh?' Erik seethed in his whispering yet resonant tone. He threw his voice to sound as if he were everywhere at once. The managers grew pale and their eyes now frantically darted about, searching for the source of the ghostly voice. 'Then perhaps it is time I showed you just how real I can be.' Erik went on, hurriedly leaving the room to head out to the auditorium. Christine followed, a sinking feeling coming to her chest. This was not going to be good.

The ballet corps were out on stage, warming up for that morning's practice, when one little girl saw a shadow looming over the catwalk. She instantly screamed, all of the girls knowing to fear the Opera Ghost.

The mangers came rushing into the seating area just in time to watch the stage floor lights explode one after another after another. All of the new lights, having only been installed a few weeks prior, would have to be replaced. A few lights of the chandelier were destroyed as well, but the rapid destruction of the glass littered the stage with small and dangerous fragments. The dancers would be trapped where they were for fear of tearing their shoes or cutting their precious feet on the glass.

Erik released a laugh that echoed brilliantly throughout the theatre. Christine had often wondered how he would sound upon the stage. Surely his silky voice would serve to mesmerise more than just her. Especially as she was not truly intended to hear it.

Christine remained just long enough to watch the managers scurry off to their office while stage hands worked quickly to rescue the trapped dancers. She knew none would be harmed, for Erik valued the success of his theatre too much to jeopardise its performers in such a way. She followed him as he practically ran back to one of his passageways down to his home. He was still chuckling from the exhilaration of his act that by the time he made it to his house, he was panting. He slumped into his favourite chair, laughing in a haze of giddy excitement. He slowly sobered, however. His smile faded some and the childlike spark left his eye as he realised he was alone and without purpose again. He would not have to wait long before his now assured payment came but it was a wait he would have to suffer through alone.

Dragging his suddenly heavy limbs over to the organ, he began to play, not even bothering to write down the notes. Christine joined him and stood beside the instrument, always loving when he did this. She adored his more organised compositions, but his free playing was what drew her in. His pure thoughts and feelings were poured into each and every note. It was through this that she had come to truly know him. She could have only watched him for twenty years, but she would know next to nothing about who he really was until she heard him play like this.

Though more sorrowful, the notes drifted from his fingers with elegant ease. She watched as his fingers played out the torment of his eyes. All of the horror she knew he must have seen. She had gleaned over time that his childhood had been less than desirable, his youth abusive, and his adolescence dangerously destructive. She knew from his cries in the throes of nightmares that he had been beyond tortured. He had been hurt both physically as well as permanently scarred emotionally. He would never be what people called normal. But, then, neither was she. She supposed that was why she secretly enjoyed watching over him. He lived a different life from anyone else, and though she had little choice, she liked seeing what new twist he would add to his already skewed form of existence.

He sighed heavily as he finished his piece, leaning on the instrument tiredly.

'Christine?' He asked of the air around him. She cocked her head at him, knowing she would not be visible to him. He was silent for a little while before sneering at the emptiness and turning away sharply. He hated himself for seeming so childish. She was not some imaginary friend he could talk to when bored, and he could not even see her. He burned his intended words in his throat before they could come to fruition.

A knock sounded at the door making both jump. Christine felt something of relief wash over her as there was only one person in the world who would come visit. Erik just glared. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he trudged over to the door and forcefully thrust it open, doing nothing to disguise his obvious frustration at the intrusion to his solitude.

'Ah, Erik, so you are still alive.' Nadir Khan smiled, his olive skin richly gleaming in the fire light and his ebony eyes flashing with as yet un-trampled joy.

'Regrettable as that is, yes, I am still here to haunt you, Daroga.' Erik replied dryly as the man stepped past him and up the slight rise to the drawing room.

'Speaking of haunting, I heard that the new footlights were all miraculously destroyed today.' Nadir eyed the man suspiciously, wondering what kind of mood Erik was truly in. Given the venomous grin these words brought to his thin lips, Nadir assumed it was not one of his better days to come visit.

'Yes, the managers forgot my salary and then proceeded to discount my existence. I had to do something to ensure my credibility.' Erik shrugged wickedly as he joined his old Persian friend before the fire

'Erik, if you are not careful, you will give those men heart attacks, and then where would you be? Hmm?'

'Perhaps with better managers.' Erik offered, letting his fingertips rest at the point of his chin.

'Or worse ones.' Nadir retorted.

'Doubtful. These two do not know their left from their right, let alone how to run a theatre.' He scoffed, glaring over that the fire.

'Then perhaps you are fortunate that they are so willing to let you run things without their notice. If they were more comparable, then they would simply get in your way.' Nadir proposed, not liking the distant look that was coming over his masked companion.

Erik hummed thoughtfully, no longer listening.

'Erik, are you all right?' Nadir asked, growing more concerned by the moment.

'Do you believe in angels?' Erik asked suddenly.

'Excuse me?' The Daroga asked, flustered by the odd question.

'Angels. You know, God's messengers and whatnot. Do you believe in them?' He turned to look somewhat frustrated at the older man.

'Yes, I suppose I do.' Nadir answered slowly, remembering the old stories of how Allah created the Heavenly Host from light. 'Why do you ask?'

'It is just that…' He paused, trying to phrase himself carefully so as not to seem more insane than usual. 'I-I think I have met one.'

From over his shoulder, Christine looked down at him in surprise. She had not been sure if he had believed her fully until now.

Nadir regarded Erik carefully. 'Have you been drinking again?' He asked as gently as he could.

'No, dammit, I just…' Erik shot from his chair and started to pace about the room. 'I met this girl and she claimed to be my guardian angel or some such nonsense. Now, you know I do not put much faith in, well, faith, so I would not be saying any of this if I were not at least a little convinced.'

'What did this girl do?' Nadir asked, trying to come to terms with the fact that Erik, who had been one of the most stubborn atheists alive, was now talking about angels as if they were real.

'She-she healed me. It hurt her a lot, but she fixed a broken leg, my ribs, my hand, and even my black eye.' He continued on.

'Allah, man! What were you doing to gain such injuries?!' Nadir leapt from his seat, eyeing the man up and down as if looking for some evidence of aforementioned wounds.

'That's not important right now.' Erik growled, glowering at the man. 'What matters is that she performed miracles. She danced on the lake as if it were a stage!'

Nadir looked at Erik, an eyebrow raised doubtfully. 'And what did this angel look like?'

Erik shot Nadir a glare before his eyes instantly softened, causing the Persian to lean back in surprise. 'She's beautiful.' Erik almost whispered. 'She had long curling brown hair, porcelain skin, and her eyes! God! She has he most wonderful eyes. I have never seen such a beautiful colour of blue in all of my life. She even smiled at me.' He told his shocked friend.

'If I did not know better, I would say you have fallen for this seraphim. Where is she?' The Daroga asked amusedly at Erik's withering look.

'I do not know. She has not appeared to me since earlier this morning. I turned round and she was gone.'

'Perhaps she was tired of your company.' Nadir shrugged with a chuckle.

The jest was lost on Erik, however. He sat heavily back into his chair, slouching and looking distantly at the fireplace. 'In that I can understand.'

'Erik, what is the matter, hmm? You are not the same fiery spirit I knew. What has happened to make you so?' Nadir leaned in, trying to make up for his obviously poor choice of words.

'Nothing has happened! That is the point!' He lamented, throwing his hands up only to let them fall back to the arms of the chair. 'It is all the same. Nothing changes and nothing ever will. Mankind will be the same for all eternity, and so I will be forced to remain here, running the Opera as the managers should be, writing music no one shall ever hear, and simply being trapped in my underground asylum.' He condemned, feeling that maw in his chest begin to form once more.

'Then leave.' Nadir told him somewhat exasperatedly. 'You have spent so long down here, why not go out into the world again? Why not explore and travel as you once used to?'

Erik scoffed. 'Right. And be ridiculed all over again, beaten, abused, and shunned by all humanity. You forget, Daroga, why I built this home in the first place. You forget why I wear this mask and hide away in the shadows.' He grew bitterer as he went on. 'Believe me, old friend, there are times when that is all I wish, but those days are over for me. Those times of bliss in the sunlight were not meant for me to enjoy, nor will they ever come to one such as myself.' He gestured woefully to his mask. 'No, I am destined to remain down here. That is the fate I chose for myself, and I will be damned if I see it changed.'

'But Erik, you are not happy here. Certainly there is some way for you to travel as you used to.' The Persian offered hopefully. He had noticed that Erik's darker moods had been growing steadily blacker each time he visited. This would not end well if something was not changed.

'Need I remind you that those times of travel never ended as well as they were intentioned?' Erik gave the man a white hot glare, remembering far too much of the past than he generally preferred to indulge.

'Yes, I suppose you are right.' The Daroga sighed, knowing he would make no head way this night. 'But perhaps your angel will assist you.' He did not catch the slightly hopeful glimmer shine in his companion's amber eyes before being snuffed out by the darker impulses of his current state.

'Or perhaps I am finally truly insane. It has certainly taken me long enough.' He sighed dejectedly.

'I assume our chess game is to be postponed?' Nadir asked, already rising from his seat.

'Why do you assume that?' Erik asked, sitting up in consternation.

Nadir hid a grin before retaking his chair as Erik set up the board.

Both men missed the little smile that graced the rosy pink lips of a certain angel as she watched them bicker like brothers over matters so trivial only an old married couple would find them worth the argument. She sat on the sofa, watching the two men as they continued their game. Erik was distracted, but she knew from experience that it would take far more to be able to beat him. She knew Nadir must truly care for the man to submit himself to constant failure of playing against him, and to endure the harsh words his company brought. She had long since envied the Persian's closeness to Erik and how easily it seemed to play upon the man to sway his stubborn head to seeing reason. When she had first observed the two together, she had avowed herself to helping Nadir in any way she could, for he knew better than anyone how to keep Erik's best interests safe. Erik of course would never admit to anything, but he relied upon Nadir for more than just a verbal jousting partner.

As the hours passed, and Nadir lost for the fourth time, he finally decided to call it a day, leaving the masked man still gloating mildly over his many victories. Erik felt the door close solidly. He had enjoyed his games as he always did and was amazed as he looked down to his pocket watch to find more time than usual had passed. He sighed in aggravation at the Daroga's prolonged stay.

 _He is worried about me._ He thought, growling slightly.

He was just about tired of people feeling the need to look after him and inspect every little detail of his life. He was a grown man with his own house and source of income. What more did they want from him? He stopped, knowing it was less from him and more for him. He shook his head, wondering how he could forget the Persian's sentimental tendencies. He did not need looking after like some child. He was fairing perfectly well on his own, albeit being bored.

He, not for the first time, wondered what his initial plan had been when moving into the basement of the Opera. Certainly listening to the rehearsals, seeing the performances, and getting to run things more efficiently in the background had been fun for the first few years, but now it felt more like a chain around him. He was at a loss as to what he found so damned interesting in the whole business in the first place. All it ever did was repeat itself. A never-ending cycle of headaches and lost tempers. He missed the thrill. He missed the novelty, now long since worn away.

He looked at his organ, but shook his head, turning away. As he had said to Nadir, what was the point if no one was going to hear it? All of his compositions, his great _Don Juan Triumphant_ now growing dust in his neglect of the piece, were never going to reach the light of the stage, or the eyes of anyone beyond himself and perhaps the Persian.

He turned to his study doors, knowing his desk inside lay still littered in architectural drawings he had yet to find the inspiration for or enthusiasm to finish. He had not drawn anything in some time, and though his hand felt the emptiness of longing to create, his head was barren. For once, he had nothing to do.

Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he left the house to retrieve his salary from Box 5. It was awaiting him dutifully as it should have been many hours previous. Remerging into the hallway, he felt himself sink in disappointment in not seeing Christine there. He knew she must have seen this place a thousand times over simply from years of following him, but she somehow had the spark of wonder that only came upon beholding it for the first time.

Returning to his box, he disappeared into the column and ventured off to his home once again. He took his time on the lake, admiring how still the waters were, and how dark their depths appeared. He caught himself smiling at the memory of her dance and how elegant her form had been. She was a shining silver light upon a great expanse of mirrored black. He shook his head of these thoughts as he entered his home. He decided to take a bath, hoping to wash away all of the frustrations and turbulent emotions of the day.

* * *

Erik had been right about the bath, having enjoyed the soothing warmth and immersive calm it brought over him. He was still drying his hair a bit, his mask already in place and proving to be a slight hindrance to his endeavours, when he came out into the drawing room to stop dead in his tracks.

He stared for what seemed like a century as he beheld the softly luminous figure sitting upon his sofa. Her brown curls cascaded down her back freely, pooling over the similarly brown wood of the furniture and gently brushing the soft green upholstery. In her delicately slender fingers rested a book as fire light flickered over her soft features.

'Christine?' Erik asked whisperingly as he gazed at her, mesmerised still by her elegant form.

She turned her head slightly, not quite looking at him as a hint of a confused frown creased her brow. As the silence dragged on, she looked to him, finding his eyes determinedly fixed upon her.

'Erik?' She asked in return, her eyes hopeful but not entirely sure if it was true.

He nodded, finding himself smiling slightly.

'Did you need me for something?' She asked after a pause, putting the book in her lap.

'I-I do not know.' He hated himself as he fumbled over his words. 'Why did you leave me earlier?' His tone quickly grew more accusatory as hurt seeped in.

'You no longer required my company.' She answered, growing sharp at his tone.

'I did not know where you went.' He shot back, anger rising to him. He was upset with her over leaving so suddenly and making him miss her.

'I thought I made that clear enough when I healed your eye. Besides, I have already explained that I cannot leave your side.' She told him, about to turn back to her book for not wishing to have this argument.

'Well, then, do not make yourself invisible. It frustrates me to not know where you are or when you are going to appear.' He snapped.

'You think I do not wish for this control too?!' She stood up as quick as a bolt of lightning. 'Do you think I enjoy not being incorporeal? Not being able to manipulate the world around me? I want to be able to touch things, Erik. To speak and be heard. To be looked at and seen.' She felt hot tears prick her sharp blue eyes, but she turned them away. She would not cry this night. She had wept before him enough.

'Why do you make it sound like it is my fault?!' He roared back at her, throwing the towel to the floor. 'I have no more control over it than you!'

'That is not true and you know it! I offered you plenty of reasons as to how you could see me!' She glared at him, her eyes like blue flames burning into him.

'What?!'

'You can call for me,' she listed out on her fingers. 'Ask God, or wait until you desperately need me as you did the other night.'

'I did call for you earlier! When you left me in the Opera, I called for you!' He now let more of his earlier despair leech into his voice as he loomed over her.

Her previous anger washed away at this. 'Erik,' she started softly and slowly. 'Were you afraid for me?' She looked up into his amber eyes, shadowed by his still enraged features and by his mask.

He felt her gaze pierce through a veil he had not intended her to see behind. Growling, he turned away, knowing he damage was at least partially done.

'Of course not! Why would I care about you?' He barked over his hunching shoulders.

He suddenly felt like an electric shock had run through him as a warm touch contacted his shoulder blade. He froze stiffly before turning his wide eyes to see Christine's concerned face beside him, her hand touching gently against his untucked white shirt.

'I am sorry you do not care for me, Erik.' She told him, ducking her head and casting her eyes to the floor as her hand slowly slid from him. He felt a coldness pool where her comforting warmth had been.

'I-if you wish it,' she went on, taking a step back from him as he continued to marvel at her. 'I can leave you again. I can try to find a way to stay invisible to you.' Her voice shook as she said this.

He turned, looking down at her. She seemed suddenly so small before him. Her inner light even seemed dimmer as she prepared to resign herself to a fate of nonexistence. Nonexistence. He almost laughed as he realised that was what he had done for himself so many years ago when he adopted the persona of Opera Ghost. And now she was about to do the same thing all because of the foolish and rash words he had so heartlessly cursed her with.

'Christine,' he said slowly, enjoying the way it sounded like a bell's chime every time it was uttered. 'I do not wish for you to leave. I only want you to stay visible more often.' He explained.

She looked up, then, diving right back into his eyes and the places he wished he was better at hiding from her. She thought his words over with a slightly pained expression before nodding.

'I shall try, but in the end, it is up to you.' She told him decidedly. He bowed a nod, letting a playful sparkle infiltrate his gaze.

'Tell me, would you care to attend a performance with me this evening?' He asked. 'The Opera is putting on a few minor shows in the off-season and I am especially pleased with M. Reyer's skills in his orchestrations.' He explained, straightening up proudly.

'You would let me come with you? And sit with you in Box 5?' She asked, eyes growing wider than he knew possible.

'Where else?' He asked slyly.

'Oh, Erik! I would love to!'

Before he knew what to do, she pounced into a hug, throwing her arms around his neck as she smiled over his shoulder. His legs felt like jelly and his arms like automatons as they slowly came to gently rest on her back. He could feel his heartbeat in his temples as his breath caught in his throat.

Realising what she had just done, Christine quickly released him, coming back to stand a bit away from him as she toyed with her skirt, blushing profusely.

'I-Oh, I…um, yes. Thank you.' She stumbled, fidgeting in her embarrassment and tucking her hair behind her ear and looking anywhere but at him.

Erik stared at her for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened. No part of his mind seemed to be working quite right, though. That was an embrace. That was what an embrace _feels_ like. He had never experienced one before, and, he realised, he could see why people enjoyed them so. It was warm, comforting, and also modest as it hid one's face incredibly well. Still, he could practically hear Christine's smile as she had held him. And he had held her! He had carried her once, but this was different. This was not only voluntary, but also two sided. He had felt his head swim as she had put her face so close to his. And now that they were apart, his arms seemed heavy and empty.

Her expression of embarrassment brought him back to the world.

 _She regrets it. She did not mean it._ He thought to himself. _Well, so be it. I will keep this mistake for myself. She does not have to share it if she does not wish to, but I shall hold it close._

'Well, I shall, uh, go prepare, then.' He said in a small, quiet voice as he turned to his bedroom to get fully dressed, smooth his hair back down as it was still thoroughly ruffled from drying, and to try to do anything but think of what Christine had done.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am sorry this is something of a slow building story, but I promise it will start to pick up presently. This particular tale does not afford a lot of the 'getting to know you' for both character as I would like. It thrusts them together rather suddenly and just sort of expects them to learn to deal with it. Have patience, and I promise you will be rewarded. Also, bonus points to anyone who can recognise the music played in this chapter. It has ties to a favourite Norse God of Mischief.**

 **Thank you emmaaaaaaw and Fifteensweets for following this story!**

Erik came into the room, looking quite the gentleman, and waved her forward wordlessly. He helped her into the boat, revelling in the soft pressure of her hand in his and clandestinely admiring her silvery form as he steered them across the lake. He was surprised when they alighted upon the dock that she showed no wariness of the dark. He had forgotten to bring a lantern, but she did not seem to need one. He had often been told by Nadir that he had the eyes of a cat and could see in the dark eerily well, but Christine seemed to exude her own light, allowing her to see and follow him effortlessly.

'I suppose,' he said suddenly. 'You know these tunnels as well as I do.' He noted, looking back to faintly see a smile play upon her lovely lips.

'Yes, I should think so. I was here when you built them, after all.' She returned with a bit of mischief hiding just on the surface of her voice.

'Ah,' he nodded grimly. 'Then I apologise for that.'

'Why?'

'I was not always in the best of moods back then.' He remembered how badly his temper was strained on those more difficult days of construction.

'"Back then"? You make it sound as if you do not have them now.' She laughed, letting her elegant tones echo cheerily through the stone walls.

Erik let out a dark chuckle at this. 'Yes, well, I suppose we are all guilty of losing our patience.' He conceded. He turned to glance back at her over his shoulder, but found himself stopping. She was standing still, seemingly looking through the ground in front of her and frowning.

'What is the matter?' He asked, cocking his head at her odd behaviour.

She snapped her wide blue eyes up to him. 'Oh, nothing. I simply had a strange feeling is all.' She smiled before fluttering up to his side and taking his arm to urge them to continue the journey.

Erik tried to pass off her show of formality as just that, but his eyes could not help straying to her hands as they encircled his pristinely jacketed arm. She kept pace with him gracefully, even though his legs were considerably longer. She looked to him like a star standing beside a shadow.

When they at last made it to Box 5, Erik felt an odd sort of pride wash over him to be escorting her in and sitting beside her. It was the closest he had ever come to seeming like any other man there. He had a lovely partner to enjoy music with and if anyone could see them through the shadow of the box, they would most assuredly be jealous of the masked man for his astonishingly lovely companion. This sparked a bit of curiosity in him, as he realised he had yet to ask a very important question. Just when he was about to ask it, however, the orchestra began their first piece and all were silent to allow the music to envelope them completely.

Looking across the sea of seats, Erik noted that there were several empties. Not that this was any great surprise. The off-season was always slower and with fewer ticket sales as when they had a new opera to host. Overall, the numbers were better than usual, and he had to admit that the music was superb.

Sitting back, he let the orchestra's ministrations wash over him, sweeping him away to the promised world their music enticed him to imagine. He found himself gazing over at Christine, her back straight, but eyes closed to the pleasures of the notes the musicians so skilfully played. He felt a small smile form on his own mouth after seeing her contentment. And yet, he wondered to himself how he had come to be so calm in the face of this admittedly bizarre situation. Here he was with a girl who had appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be his guardian angel. Certainly she had cared for him, enduring great pain so that he would not have to, but this did not excuse the fact that she had apparently been following him about for the past twenty years and influencing his life without his notice. He was unsure as to how he should feel, but a part of him was confusedly betrayed to know she had so casually walked in on his private life and not cared to ask permission to do so. Still, he found her simply too fascinating to fully begrudge her company.

 _Besides,_ he thought, _at least I am not alone anymore. Perhaps this girl can offer some entertainment for a time and get me out of the dismal moods I seem to find myself in as of late._

Turning his full attentions back to the music, he found the piece was finished and the strings were taking over, claiming the room in their soft and lilting cries of Schubert's String Quartet No. 13. If Erik was not mistaken, which he almost never was when it came to music, this was the first movement. He watched Christine closely as the music drew her further in with its depth of powerful yet drifting tones. He observed slight shifts in her diaphragm as she mentally went through balletic movements to match the at once soothing and commanding music while also perhaps inwardly singing it. He found himself wishing to see her dance for him again. To match her graceful actions to the music he was hearing reign through his Opera. He also felt a twinge of envy over the artist below for capturing so much of her attentions. He could not fully explain it, but he alone longed to be the one to hold her eyes. He wished to draw her smile forth, to have her look only to him, and to simply make her happy. He knew she could not truly choose to be in his company, but perhaps over time it would feel more voluntary. She was still too much of a mystery to let her slip from his grasp so soon.

When the concert concluded, he joined her in applause, but swayed her away from their normal escape route. He had something he wished to show her.

Leading her out into the hallway, he ducked them into a secret passageway known only to the Phantom which so skilfully haunted the Opera Populaire. She followed him in complete silence as he fervently hurried off to a particular part of his beloved building.

Christine had a vague guess as where he was taking her, but she had never been there before. It was only when he thrust open the secret trap door that her suspicions were eagerly confirmed.

Erik watched with something resembling gleeful pride as he helped her over the slight lip of the door and onto the roof. The midnight velvet of the sky was carefully littered with stars and majestically adorned with a nearly full moon, casting ample light which Christine so effortlessly resembled onto the greened copper roof. The warm glow from the glass dome that rose smoothly behind them contrasted the coolness of the sleeping night. Distant sounds of theatre-goers leaving could be heard filtering up through the gently swaying night air as Christine walked as if in a trance to one of the great golden statues of the Opera's two cherished attributes, Harmony and Poetry with their accompanying Pegasus of stone.

Erik shuffled awkwardly to stand beside her, worried in her dazed state that she might fall. She brushed the statue gently as she leaned over slightly to see down into the street below. She felt something rest delicately, but securely over her hand. Turning, she saw Erik looking at her rather intently.

'Please do not fall.' He urged, his heartrate already quickening.

'I shall try not to.' She smiled at him playfully, but her eyes held too much wonder for him to take it in complete jest.

'Do you like it up here?' He asked, watching how alight her expression seemed.

'I do; very much. I love all of your Opera.' She told him.

Somehow the compliment took him off guard. 'I am glad you see it that way.' He said softly as she took a step away from the edge to turn back to the luminous dome behind them.

'Of course I do. The building demands it. Everywhere I look it requires my admiration and respect, much like you do sometimes.' She smirked at his surprised look.

He hummed thoughtfully at her humour. 'Yes, I suppose the building has only served to magnify my selfish and arrogant tendencies.' He shot her a glance only to see her cringe at the words she had so brashly shouted at him the night before.

'Erik, I am sorry for those things I said to you.' She quickly came towards him, hands held out in supplication. 'I did not mean them.'

'Yes you did, and you should not dare deny them. Though, I fear my words were more truthful than I had intended.' He looked at her worriedly, showing at least some of his own regret. 'I am sorry I frightened you.' He turned away at this admission, not being able to meet her undoubtedly fearful expression.

'Erik,' she said. He turned round to find himself far closer to her than he had anticipated, but neither of them could find any fault with this.

'I am not frightened of you.' She continued, honesty ringing in her eyes. 'I am merely worried about you.'

He found himself holding his breath as she stood just a few easy centimetres away. Quickly, he ducked out of the close proximity, turning so as not to show how he heavily he was breathing or how confused he was for doing so. 'Why worry about something like me, hmm? What could the angels possibly want with the monster who lives under the Opera?' He asked, his voice coming out harsher than he had intended.

'They want you to live.' She told him, perplexed by his sudden change in tone. 'And you are not a monster.' She insisted sternly.

'Oh no?' He dared, looking at her incredulously. 'Tell me, for you have clearly known me long enough, how could a man with this face not be considered a monster?' He challenged.

'Because it is not the face that matters, Erik, it is the heart; the soul. I know deep down you are a good man.' She pressed, coming back to stand before him.

'Yes, deep down indeed. But how far are you willing to travel to find this promised man, my dear? Are you willing to plunge into Hell itself to retrieve this long lost soul and drag it to redemption? For that is what it shall take.' He spat back at her, somehow growing taller and darker within his perpetual shadow.

'Stop it Erik! You are not as terrible as you claim!' she persisted. 'You are a man and you are good.' She yelled at his chest as if trying to speak directly to his heart, to remind it to remain warm and beating.

'Then why must the world shun me? If I am as wonderful as you seem to believe, then why must I hide? Why do I have scars to remind me how cruel mankind can be? Why do I have this face and how can you possibly defend it, knowing what it looks like?' He nearly begged the last, searching her eyes, her soul, for any kind of answer.

'Perhaps because I do not know what you look like!' She shouted without thinking. She stopped to look up into two wide orbs of amber.

'Y-you have never seen…?' He gestured vaguely towards his mask.

'No, I have not.' She answered almost apologetically. 'I felt it was something that you should decide whether or not I see.' She explained, casting her eyes downward.

Erik felt the colour drain from his already pale face as he turned away again, feeling the weight of her words crash down on him.

 _How had I assumed that she had seen?_ He mentally berated himself. _I am hideous, of course she would not have remained by me if she saw. She would not be able to look me in the eye if she knew what lay beneath the mask. She would not wish to stand near me, let alone touch me if she knew what I hid. How could I have been so foolish? How could I have let my own idiotic wishes and longings get in the way of seeing sense and reason?_

'I see.' He acknowledged after a pause, still cursing his own name.

Christine hung her head a bit. She had been doing so well, and yet he let his own insecurity get in the way.

'Why is it that every time we try to talk, we end up arguing and one of us gets hurt?' She asked, looking accusingly at the rooftop, and then the rich grey clouds that were swooping in overhead.

Erik watched her with an emotion he did not have the effort or patience to invest in naming. He felt old and tired as she gazed indifferently up at the clouds.

'Do you have wings?'

Christine looked at him confusedly.

'You are an angel, right? Do angels not have wings?' He asked with weary curiosity. It had been the question he had intended for earlier, but found it far more fitting now. She looked very much like a bird about to take flight.

'Oh, yes, I suppose they do.' She noted, putting forth that odd calm in the face of complete strangeness which stoked his ire so easily. 'I have never really thought to look.' She craned her neck to check her shoulder blades as Erik sighed.

'I do not see any, so perhaps you simply do not have them.' He rubbed the back of his head, trying to come up with something better to say to her. He had dragged her all the way up here to do God knows what, and now that he was here with her…nothing. He was stuck making awkward small talk with someone who did not show any sort of partiality to the only subject he wished to discuss: her. He wondered, not for the first time, what he was supposed to see in her when it started to rain.

When the first drop hit her head, she stopped acting like a dog trying to catch its own tail, and by the second she was staring up into the clouds again. As the downpour continued, she held open her arms and let her head fall back, smiling dreamily skywards. Something in this caught Erik's attentions and held him rapt.

'Thank you,' he heard faintly. He cocked his head as he took a few cautious steps closer.

'For what?' He asked, noting the uncomfortable tickle of water droplets catching and sliding down between his face and the mask. If he were alone, he would simply rip the disguise away to join her calm bliss, but he was not about to subject her to such unparalleled horror.

'For letting me feel the rain.' She told him, keeping her eyes shut contentedly.

'Then you are welcome.' He bowed slightly and actually smiled, knowing she would see neither. He stood there for a moment, enjoying how free she looked. Perhaps her beauty was what he was meant to see in her.

'Come,' she said after a little while. 'Let us get you inside. It will not do either of us any good to have you catching cold.' She said, nearly pushing him determinedly towards his secret door.

'Me? Can you not grow ill?' He mock-argued. She smirked at him in response, enjoying his reflective reaction.

He was mildly surprised when she led him back down the passageways successfully. She clearly did have a good hold on how to navigate the place. They made it out into the backstage area, though it was mostly empty by this time. All of the ballet rats were up in their loft asleep or in their own homes were they fortunate enough to have them. Christine and Erik made their way through the many twists and turns to get to the dressing room which held the mirror exit.

They were just about to reach the door, Erik's long, skeletal fingers enclosing round the golden handle, when he heard something behind them. He turned just in time to see the familiarly grungy face of Joseph Buquet.

'You!' The man shouted with a slight stagger and slur to his word.

Erik nearly rolled his eyes at the ridiculously inebriated stage hand, but the shine of a blade rushing towards him halted his arrogant gesture. In fact, he was so surprised by the man's unusual boldness that he found himself furiously stilled in any attempt to avoid injury. It was not until he felt the slight pressure spreading against his torso that he realised Christine had stepped in front of him.

He looked down in amazement, only now hearing her cry of protest before she had rushed to protect him with herself. She stood, knife securely driven into her stomach and up to slip into the lungs, as Joseph looked confusedly between his weapon and the shadowy being he had intended to kill.

In the next split second, Erik saw two flares of silvery grey, answering his earlier question, and the body of Buquet flying several feet backwards before crashing with a solid thump into the wall. Then the angel who had stood so boldly before him slumped forward, yanking the knife from her stomach and falling to her hands and knees almost instantly afterward.

'Christine!' Erik lunged forward, taking her now quivering form into his arms without hesitation. She was coughing slightly, and her eyes were drooping closed as he carried her into the dressing room and, with mild difficulty, into the tunnel beyond the mirror. 'Just stay with me.' He urged as he practically flew through the long since familiar stone walls to the dock. He set her down gently before hurrying the boat across the lake. He nearly kicked down the front door in his haste, not hearing anything but his own urging to move faster, and his rapid heartbeat.

Setting her down on the sofa, he instantly stripped off his jacket, pulling back her hands from their folded position on her stomach. He froze as he examined the split in the bodice of her dress. There was nothing. No cut, no blood, nothing. He looked at her in puzzlement as slowly the sound of her voice cut through the din of his own thoughts.

'Erik! I told you, I am fine. I heal quickly, remember?' She insisted for not the first time.

'B-but you were stabbed.' He looked at the hole in her dress again, trying vainly to make sense of it.

'I prefer the term impaled, as it sounds more dramatic.' She said playfully.

His eyes shot up to hers like fire. 'You think this is a joke?!' He roared. 'You could have died! What the Hell were you thinking?!'

'No I could not! And I was thinking I would save you, but if you would rather have been left bleeding and dead in the hall for anyone to find, then be my guest.' She glared at him just as fiercely.

He looked about to argue further, but the tiring rush of adrenalin finally caught up and he instead slumped his head down on the sofa, breathing heavily. He felt a new sensation creep over his head as he realised Christine was running her fingers over his hair. He froze, not knowing what else to do.

'Oh Erik,' she said sadly, leaning her head down closer to his. 'I am sorry for worrying you so.' She continued to seek out his eyes like a child, sliding onto the floor beside him and leaning on the sofa, miming his posture. She gave him a gentle smile when he finally turned to look at her. 'Are you hurt at all?'

He shook his head. 'Just tired. Are you sure you are all right?' He asked, not completely willing to believe she was fully healed.

'I am fine. Thank you for carrying me. I am not sure I could have made it so efficiently here without your assistance.' She could not help the laugh that escaped.

She watched him sigh heavily before sitting up. He looked about for a moment as if trying to find some purpose.

'Come on, Erik, let us get you to bed.' She urged, snagging his arm as she stood up with him.

He looked at her amusedly, wondering if this was what it was like to have a mother. 'Will you still be here when I wake up?' He asked, growing concerned.

'That depends upon you. Do you want me to be here when you wake up?' She asked, humouring his childlike question.

'Yes.' He answered in a small voice.

'Then I shall see you in the morning.' She smiled softly at him.

'What will you do all night?' He asked before going into his room.

'Oh, I read and watch the fire or the lake. I like to sit and contemplate the universe.' She grinned at him, barely holding in another laugh. Erik nodded with a similar smile before finally bidding her good night and trudging off to sleep.

* * *

Christine sat on the edge of the lake, watching the rippling waters come to lap ever so gently upon the shore. The water seemed so still apart from the edges. The boat sat almost motionless on the glassy lake. The cool air from the underground tried vainly to be felt by the figure on the stone bank. She toyed with her hair and her skirt, having managed to find a needle and some thread to mend her dress from the previous night's infraction. She could not help smiling to herself at how Erik had worked so hard to get her back here only to find she had already healed. She felt badly, though, remembering how distressed he was over her injury. She did not know he could be that way around someone. She had always supposed, despite how he may sneer, that he would come to Nadir's aid were something to happen to the Persian. Erik did not have many friends, so it served to look after the ones he had, though this also meant he was a bit sharper than he should have been around them. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she realised that perhaps she was now among that small circle.

'How is the universe?'

Christine jumped slightly when she heard Erik's voice appear suddenly at her side.

'Sorry, I did not intend to startle you.' He apologised, smiling slightly while also looking worried over her reaction.

'It is all right. I simply was not expecting you.' She admitted, returning the smile and adding a bit of a breathy laugh. 'The universe is well, so far as I can determine. How did you sleep?' She asked as he came to sit beside her.

'Oh, well enough.' He brushed the question off. 'What do you find so fascinating about the water?'

'Nothing, really. I just do not have anything better to do.' She told him, shrugging.

'Would you like me to get you something to occupy your time with?' He offered, feeling a bit uncomfortable yet excited at the prospect of doing something for her.

'You really do not have to do anything. If I do my job correctly, then you will not need to see me at all.' She remarked passively.

'Do you not like being seen?'

'Of course I do, but you only see me because you need me. And you only need me because you are lonely and depressed.' She explained bluntly.

'So, what? Do you want me to get a dog?' He looked at her dryly, having cringed slightly from the bluntness of her diagnosis of his mental stability.

'I was thinking you to be more of a cat person, actually, but the choice is yours.' She continued with interest.

'You are not serious. Why would I get a cat? Why not have you just stay with me?' He said it before he could fully think it through. Thankfully, if her confused frown was any implication, she did not think about it too hard either.

'You want me to stay with you? You really want me?' She asked, completely shocked and baffled.

'Well,' he looked away, trying to regain something of his harder shell. 'I do not mind your company, if that is what you mean. I assume that someday you will be released from your burden of babysitting me and go off to do more Heavenly things.' He looked at her, hoping this would dig him out of any pit he may have created for them.

She seemed to think about this. 'I do not know. I suppose eventually I shall have to leave you, but I had rather hoped by that point you would be…'

'Dead?' He finished for her, fighting a grin as she looked to him with guilty embarrassment over her brash thoughts. 'Hmm, I guess that is one way to get rid of me.' He nodded, enjoying her choking sounds of surprise.

'I would never "get rid of you"! It is my job to protect you! I will not throw you under a train, or hang you from the stage, or drown you in the lake if that is what you mean!' She grew more and more irate as he simply burst out laughing. 'Do not laugh at me! I mean it! I would never…' She could not keep it up. She started laughing with him, enjoying his musical tenor voice as it echoed across the lake.

'Those are very specific deaths. You must have given it a lot of thought over the years.' He laughed, enjoying how she fought her mirth to glare at him before letting the giggling bubble forth again. Her voice was like a heavenly wind chime and filled every particle of the air with its sunny joy.

They calmed, smiling broadly at each other. They both just sat there in the nearly complete darkness, looking into the other's equally luminous eyes. Christine's shone like starlight while Erik's looked like two softly burning candles.

'So,' he said at length, feeling the weight of the silence stretch on. 'What would you like to do today?'

'That is a good question.' She smiled thoughtfully. 'I am open to suggestions.'

'Well, auditions for the next season are going to start tomorrow, so the Opera does not really need me at present.' He noted somewhat dispassionately. 'What are your interests?'

She hummed thoughtfully. 'I do not remember any of my old life, so I do not really know.'

Erik looked across the lake, trying to think of something that they could do together, something he knew she was at least proficient at. 'Christine,' he cocked his head with a smile, an idea coming to him. 'Would you care to sing?'

He did not think her eyes could get any bigger than they did at that moment. 'You would let me sing for you?'

'You sing wonderfully, it is not as if you need my permission.' He raised an eyebrow at her overwhelming enthusiasm. She looked so close to tears after his compliment he wondered if she would be able to survive the ordeal.

Scurrying to her feet, she very nearly dragged him into the house, bubbling over with excitement as they went over to the organ. She stood to the side, back straight, waiting dutifully to begin. Erik sighed with tired amusement as she watched his every move with barely constrained glee. He stretched his fingers, taking longer than usual just to see if she noticed. If she did, she said nothing about it.

They started off with scales, which she went through with ease, climbing ever higher with her voice. He had never heard someone sing so high and so beautifully as she did, yet when they went on to sing a full song, the charm faded. He had heard her singing a few times before, but now that she was trying, it fell flat of his expectations. He hardly made it through the song before stopping her.

'Christine,' he started in a tone he hoped displayed enough of his displeasure while not being too harsh. 'You have a magnificent voice. I have never heard anyone sing as you do, but you have no emotion to your tone. You could make the angels weep, but you do not allow the music to move you.' He explained.

Christine nodded, thinking about this.

'But I can teach you, if you wish.' Erik urged, seeing her disappointment evident in her downcast eyes. This brightened her whole form considerably.

'You would do that for me?' She asked in wonderment.

Erik breathed a laugh, marvelling at her disbelief in his favouring attitude. 'Of course. Why are you always so amazed when I offer to make you happy?'

'Because no one in my memory has ever done so.' She told him with a smile that made his heart lurch. He found a sort of kinship forming with this strange girl, and though it made him worry slightly, he could not completely begrudge it.

'Very well, let us begin,' He announced, taking on his earlier tone and pushing aside the veritable mountain of thoughts he wished to sift through over her.

He worked with her, marvelling at her tireless enthusiasm and determination. Every time she opened her mouth to start again, she would look to him for his approval. She hung on his every word and strove to be worthy of his attentions. He noticed this and wondered at it. He had never known someone who was so desperate to please him or cared so much for his opinion of them.

They went on like this for some time until his fingers protested too much for playing so long. He clenched and unclenched his fists a bit when he announced they should stop for the present.

'Oh Erik, I am sorry. I did not mean to make you go too long.' She hurriedly apologised, hovering over him and staring worriedly at his fingers.

'It is fine, Christine, really. I do no mind-' He stopped suddenly when she took his hands and cupped hers around them. He could not seem to comprehend the action as he felt her smooth, soft palms calmingly sooth his tired fingers. He continued to gaze at her in astonishment as she focused on rubbing his knuckles gently. Finally he caught his held breath and stood up abruptly, reclaiming his hands more sharply than he had initially intended.

'I need to eat.' He told her distractedly. 'Do you get hungry?'

'No, not particularly.' She answered meekly.

He nodded and went off to the kitchen, hating his mortality for requiring food.

'Erik,' he heard a small voice behind him whimper. He turned to see a very slight looking Christine leaning on the doorframe and gazing at him plaintively. 'If I do something to offend you, please let me know. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable.' She told him, her tiny smile glimmering hopefully.

He honestly did not know how to respond to that. He could not truthfully deny it, for something about this girl set him on an edge he had never felt before, but he did not wish to send her into a fit of worrying. She still held too many mysteries to fully comprehend how he felt towards her constant presence, yet this also meant he was not eager to part with her.

'It is…all right. I am simply not used to being touched.' He turned away, hoping she would not see the mortification that admission brought. He felt constantly exposed when subjected to her cobalt eyes, and he did not appreciate how loose his tongue seemed to prefer being when around her.

Still, she nodded her understanding, looking as though she was mentally storing it away for future reference.

She turned and went back into the drawing room while Erik continued to work in the kitchen. He was somewhat glad she had left him alone. He could start to think things through more fully. He had many questions still pressing on his mind, and he knew not all of them were meant for her ears nor could she answer them. A particular part of their earlier conversations kept nagging at his thoughts: her past. Who was she before she became his angel? And did she have any previous connection to him?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you christina648 for following/favouriting this story! It means a lot to me to see any support towards my writing. I am not as confident in this one, but with lovely reviews and kind followers, I at least feel that it was worth it to write.**

They sat in the drawing room, Christine reading on the sofa and Erik pretending to do the same in his chair. In truth he was intermingling reassuring glances over at her with his own wonderings over who she was. He had noted, when he had grown more accustomed to her presence, that she had a slight accent to her voice. He thought it sounded Swedish, but never having gone there himself, he was left to guessing. He was uncertain as to her natural talents coming from her time as a mortal, or if her angelic voice was derived from being one of the angels. These were small facts about her, mostly driven from speculation and guess work. He still had no real indication as to her true character or her past.

His questions, however, had something of an opportunity to be answered when there came a familiar knock at the door. Erik was surprised and mildly put out that the Daroga had seen fit to visit him twice within as many days, but grew excited at the prospect of confirming his sanity.

Nadir barely had time to get out a good evening before being shooed into the house by a none too patient Erik.

'Nadir,' Erik announced. 'This is Christine.' He said proudly, pulling her over rather unceremoniously.

She looked up at her masked friend with a peeved expression. _Sure,_ he _does not like to be touched, but he can haul me about like a doll anytime he wishes._ She scowled at him before looking to a thoroughly confused Nadir.

The Persian glanced between Erik's gloating eyes and empty hands. He was unsure of how to approach this new level to the man's obvious insanity, but found his silence not helping matters any further.

'Well, say hello.' Erik snapped at the man who kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

'Erik,' Christine leaned back to meet the confused eyes of her companion. 'He cannot see me.' She explained as delicately as she could.

'What? Why the Hell not?! I can see you just as clear as day!' He protested, wounded.

'Because only you are meant to see me. If Nadir has a guardian angel, then only he would be able to see them. That is how it works.' She looked up at his mixed expression of anger, disappointment, and hurt pride. 'I am sorry.' She tried to look as sympathetic as possible, but he was not in the mood.

He looked back up to his now extremely warry friend and silently turned to go sit in his chair by the fireplace. He had no words to defend himself with that would sound any saner than his earlier display.

Christine felt her heart clench with pity for him and came over to kneel before him. He refused to look at her which hurt, but she only sighed. 'Erik, if there were a way you know I would do it for you.' She assured. He sniffed disapprovingly as he continued to bore holes in the wall with his gaze.

Nadir stood deliberating for a moment before making a choice he knew he would live to regret. It went along with all of the others had made in regards to Erik.

'So, I take it you are still possessed with your angel.' He tried to make that sound convincing, but he knew it fell far from where he had hoped it would. Oddly enough, this coincided with Erik's unenthusiastic response to Christine. Nadir found himself nodding and taking a bracing breath before tentatively joining the man beside the fire.

'Why have you returned so soon, Daroga? Afraid to find me hanging by my own lasso?' Erik asked with ice in his normally silky voice.

'If you wish the truth, yes. I have not liked your attitude these past few days, and this whole angel business has done nothing to reassure me.' He waved his hand about when trying to find a good way to describe the man's delusions.

'If you are here to have me committed, I am afraid I must warn you that it did not work so well for my mother.' Erik spat out the title for the woman who had the apparent misfortune of birthing him.

'I am not going to do that, my friend. You know I never would.' Nadir nearly scolded.

'Then you have the patience of a saint.' Erik retorted.

'Yes, I have often thought so. At least when it comes to you I do.' He laughed at his own jest, but Erik merely gave him a withering look. 'Tell me, where is your angel, this Christine, now?' Nadir asked, sobering so as not to incite violence.

'If you have come to mock, Daroga, simply remember that madness besets age and you are far older than I.' Erik spat, still avoiding Christine's plaintive stare.

Nadir regarded his friend for a moment. He had never seen him pout so stubbornly. He was more like a child than he had been back when they first knew each other in Russia on the way to Persia. Yes, Erik was becoming an obstinate child in his old age. He nearly laughed at the tantrum the man would most assuredly throw if he knew these thoughts.

'True, but I think if anything is to drive me mad, it will be you.' Nadir replied.

Erik huffed a laugh, though his eyes strayed from their distant gaze to follow an invisible something as it wandered off towards the kitchen.

'You really do believe in your angel, don't you?' Nadir observed. He also noted the look of admiration that came to the masked man's eyes as he watched the air.

'She is real to me.' Erik muttered with an odd sort of reverence.

The men sat in silence for a moment before Erik turned to the Daroga with a gleam of purpose suddenly shining in his candle-flame eyes.

'I need you to do some research for me.' He told him with a dark sort of excitement Nadir had learned to dread. 'I need you to dig up records of someone.'

'What do you mean?' The Daroga was intrigued, but still concerned.

'Christine, she said she was once human and that she died. I want to find out more about her.' Erik explained in a secretive tone, making the Persian grow even more uneasy.

'Why not just ask?'

'Because she does not remember.' Erik watched the man lean back in his chair heavily.

'Of course she doesn't. That would be far too easy, wouldn't it?' Nadir sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. 'Why must you do these things? Why can you not just live like the rest of us and not have to make the world so complex?'

'You know why.' Erik said darkly. Nadir looked at him and sighed again.

'Fine, but I am going to need more than just a first name to go off of.' He said, pulling out his black note pad and pen.

Erik excitedly flew into a description of her, explaining the approximate year she had died, and what he had deduced already. Nadir patiently listened to all of the details, noting with curiosity the ones that were not crucial to the exploration of her. Such things as, she likes to read and sing, she often argues with him, and that she can be a bit absentminded when it comes to herself. He began to wonder, based upon this description if somehow she truly was real. Every conversation he had had with the man about woman had involved calling them delicate and weak, needing protection, not strong minded and obstinate. Perhaps Erik had truly lost what sanity he had miraculously held onto, or maybe, just maybe, this angel was somehow real. Nadir doubted it rather highly, but he was willing to give his long-time friend at least a bit of benefit to his apprehension.

They parted shortly afterwards, Erik too wound up to focus on anything in particular. With a heavy sigh and not a few concerned glances backwards, Nadir left the masked man to his lonely existence once more. Erik, on the other hand, was not feeling so much lonely as renewed with purpose. He would have the auditions to sit through tomorrow, the information on Christine to wait for, and a secret to keep from her. He realised the last was not necessarily a wise object to rejoice over, but he did not wish to give her false hope, and he had a strange pit in his stomach he did not want to address. Something about his relationship with her felt wrong, but he was not in the mood to delve any deeper than exterior feeling.

Walking into the kitchen, he was stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a cup of tea awaiting him on the counter along with a simple biscuit from the pantry. The sink was still running, but there was no one else in the room. He was alone again.

He turned off the sink and looked about in puzzlement before realising he had become so focused on his little missions that he had forgotten to need Christine. Try as he might, however, she would not appear. His mind was simply too caught up in its excitement for the upcoming activities and plans he had made.

He felt a bit of guilt over making her disappear like this and idly wondered if she resented it. He drank his tea, admiring how perfectly she had brewed it. His black Russian tea with a spiral of lemon. He had loved it ever since that time when he had travelled about that cold and broad country to perform his magic. He wondered if Christine would enjoy seeing some of his tricks, though she had most likely seen the bulk of his skill over her twenty years of watching over him. This thought refused to sit comfortably in him as he had not asked for anyone to look after him. It was odd and infuriatingly uncomfortable to know you had lived almost half your life under secretive supervision.

He decided to be upset over this fact, scowling down at his tea accusingly. The things she must have seen him do and hear him say were beyond his admittedly sharp memory. How could she simply waltz around his home as if none of it mattered? He remembered the time he nearly choked Garnier to death when the Prussian War had started and construction on the Opera was halted. He distinctly remembered all of the darker days he had spent brooding below his monument to music and art. He wondered at these what Christine had thought of him. How could she have most assuredly witnessed all of this and yet smiled at him and laughed with him as if he were any other man? How could she stand to be around him, even if she had little choice? He thought of how happy she had been when he had showed her the roof, how apologetic she was over having him play for her for hours on end just that day, or how upset she had been when he had wished she were not around.

He stopped his train of thought a moment.

 _What if she cares about me?_ He was not sure how to process this information, but based upon how eager she was to have him do things with her and how grateful she was for his attentions, he realised that it must be at least partially true. He looked about the room, half expecting her to be there waiting for him to find something for them to do together.

 _But,_ he thought. _No one has ever cared about me. Nadir looks after me, but that is different._

He thought of her. How incredibly beautiful she was with her flawless features and long curls that seemed to call to his bony fingers to lace themselves in. He shook his head. He would watch her from a guarded distance, and were his suspicions confirmed, he would have to find a way to put them down. He would anticipate them to be rejected as an angel certainly could not have any feelings for a mortal, let alone him. He was a hideous monster, and she had yet to even see his face. Perhaps that would be the determining factor. Yes, were she to ever see his face –God help her- and she were to stay or smile at him as she did now, then he would have to approach her obvious insanity carefully but deliberately. If she were to run from him as most did, then he would do his upmost to free her from that burden.

Setting his mind to this task as much as the others, he retreated to his study to at least try to draw something. It had been several weeks since he had found anything beyond the echoes that swam across the lake to pay any mind to.

* * *

Erik sat in Box 5, listening to what felt like the one hundredth screeching woman who dared call herself a singer howl her incessant wail across his beloved stage. They could project, he gave them that, but what they decided to issue from their mouths was far from what any sane human would call music. There had been two who were not so mind-bendingly horrid, but they were still what he would consider mediocre at best. Perhaps he was too picky, he wondered part way through another botched interpretation of _Roméo et Juliette_. He thought then of how glorious Christine's voice was, drifting over the air as well as inhabiting it, instead of harshly cutting it like these banshees. If only his angel were capable of being seen and heard by more than just him. If he was truly to see her at all.

He had come back into the drawing room early that morning, having gotten no sleep through his fevered state of determined creation, only to find it and the rest of the house empty.

He felt a slight drain to his energy at his loneliness as he had rather hoped to chat with her whilst reviewing the new so-called singers. He had come up with many a snide comment he was curious to test out upon his lips, but had no ear besides his own to receive it.

Once the final woman had performed, he slunk from his seat and thickly made his way through his trap door to go back home. He was not anxious to go back, but he could not bear to be up in the theatre with those awful women who had so mangled music he had once held in high esteem. He doubted he would ever be able to listen to those once glorious pieces the same way again.

He let the boat drift a bit more lazily on the water, enjoying the soft sounds of the rippling lake. He tried to let his mind fill with that purpose he had felt so strongly the night before. All of the things he had wished to do and discover about his angel now seemed only half important when faced with potentially seeing her again.

He found it odd he would crave her company so desperately. He had only known her a short time, and though he had decided her watching him was undesirable, he still felt the longing to hear her voice and see her smile. He still could not quite understand why she smiled at him, after all the yelling he had managed to do over their short acquaintance he would think she should glare or shun his company. Somehow she had drawn him out, found a little piece of him that he showed to no one else, and claimed it in her delicate hand. He hated a part of himself for allowing her to do that. He did not wish to be held by someone, especially a girl who may just as well be a figment of his imagination.

Trudging his way into the house, he decided to sit by the fireplace, though the flame was burning lowly in the grate. He did not care. He simply sat there, staring at the small flickering until his eyes felt heavy.

He opened them again, not wishing to fall asleep just yet, but to his confusion he found it had been too late for that. The fire now burned at a steady rate and to his right on the small table normal reserved for chess, sat a plate with a sandwich. He stared at it in puzzlement for a bit.

Shifting in his chair as he had slid down a bit during his sleep, he continued to eye the food with guarded suspicion. He started to wonder if Nadir had made it when he heard a soft hum issuing from the kitchen. He was about to get up to investigate, but the source of the sweet sound came out and stood, leaning against the doorway and looking at him.

Christine smiled gently for a moment until his persistent gaze made her furrow her brow in confusion.

'Can you see me, or is it just wishful thinking?' She asked at length.

He thought on this a moment. 'Yours or mine?' He returned innocently.

Christine laughed airily as she came over to sit in the chair beside his. He was slightly amazed to see her slouch a bit into it. She looked more human, and infinitely more beautiful than he had ever thought someone could look whilst simply sitting.

'Are you going to eat your sandwich?' She asked, nodding to the food in question.

Erik looked back at his nemesis. 'I am not hungry.' He told her, only half lying as he looked away from her and the plate.

'Oh, I see, it's one of _those_ days.' She nodded knowingly.

'What days?' He asked, feeling as though he should be offended somehow.

'The days where you believe yourself to be too good for mankind, so you ignore basic needs like sleep and sustenance.' She explained.

'That is not the reason.' He protested, finding a bit of insult hidden in the tone of her diagnosis of his moods.

'Then why, pray tell, do you feel the need to so callously shun the sandwich I worked so hard to make for you?' She raised her eyebrows as if in a dare as she looked at him pointedly.

'Because I have had a rather tiring day-' He started to whine.

'Then eat the damn sandwich!' She insisted sternly, interrupting him. Her mild profanity catching him by surprise along with her sharp tone.

Perhaps it was this little snap mixed with actual hunger that made him reluctantly eat, but Christine was simple satisfied he had done as he was told.

'You never eat enough.' She told him firmly.

'If you had known me when I was a child, you would understand why.' He replied, glaring at her imperious stance now that she had forced him to do what she wanted.

She looked at him sympathetically. She knew he had reasons for everything he did –questionable though some may be- and she felt bad knowing she had interfered with one of them while also dredging up a bit of his painful past.

'My mother,' he went on, completely shocking her. 'If I can even call her that, forced me to eat because as revolting as I already was, she could not stand to see me look so much like a skeleton. I have hated food ever since and have discovered I only need to eat once a day. My sleep patterns are simply a result of an overactive imagination. I become so absorbed in my work that I forget what time it is. It is especially useful for when I have something I need to finish quickly as I am not burdened by the necessity to sleep every single night.' He went on somewhat proudly.

Christine watched the fire, letting his words sink ever deeper into her mind. 'You said your day was tiring, how so?' She asked after a healthy pause.

'I had to sit and listen to the new singers audition.' He said heavily, still cringing from the memory of some of them.

'Oh, that's what you call them.' She smirked at his somewhat perplexed look.

'You heard?' He asked, returning her grin.

She shrugged, smiling cleverly.

Erik huffed a laugh. 'I am sorry for that, but I simply do not have much that interests me these days.' He told her, looking distantly at the fire again.

Christine felt her chest tighten a bit. 'There is plenty to do.' She protested, gaining her a doubtful glance. 'There's reading, your drawing, you have yet to finish your _Don Juan Triumphant_ , you have the Opera to manage, and though the latter may not always be as good as you would like, it still keeps you busy for a while.' She insisted.

'But besides those and the occasional visit from you or Nadir, I have nothing left to do. My composing takes a certain mind set, my _drafting_ ,' he put emphasis into the correct word for his art. 'Takes inspiration, and there is currently little to be done in the Opera. Besides, once you have seen one production, you have seen them all.' He sighed.

'That is not true, and you know it.' She told him sternly. 'You secretly love watching the actors and musicians scrabble about as deadlines approach, or helping the dancers find their point shoes when they have accidentally misplaced them. I have never seen you so happy as when you can be helping a performer do their best.'

'Or making trouble for them.' He smiled darkly.

'No, that is not real pleasure. You only feed your demons doing that. It is a false joy you give yourself when you think there is no other way.' She said, making him look to her with an expression she had never seen before. It was something between reverence and immeasurable joy with a bit of stubbornness thrown in.

They sat in silence for a bit.

'If I have so little to do, how bored you must be here.' He observed absently.

'Oh, it is not so bad.' She waved off. She sounded as if she were going to elaborate, but he found her continuing silence pitiable. She truly had nothing to do unless he needed her. What a sad existence he had unknowingly forced her into.

Suddenly, her head snapped up and she looked at him with a bright and brilliant sparkle in her eyes. She rose and came to stand before him.

'I want to try something.' She told him cryptically. She held out her hand to him and he looked at it as warily as he had the sandwich. 'Please.' She urged before he finally relented and took it.

She led him out the front door, snagging his cloak for him on the way. He followed uncertainly until they reached the edge of the lake. She turned and looked at him appraisingly.

'You might want to take your shoes off.' She announced, making him worry even more.

'Why?' He asked, finally concerned enough to ask.

She seemed to think about this a moment, before stepping back onto the water, standing upon it as she had the first day. She held out her hand again, but he seemed less convinced of good to come out of it.

'Do you trust me?' She asked, looking deeply into his flame-like eyes with her jewelled sapphire ones.

'Do you trust yourself?' He retorted, having noted her poorly hidden apprehensive glances.

She paused, pretending to think it over. 'Let me answer that in a moment.' She said with a tilted grin.

Somehow, against all better judgment, he found himself reaching out to take her hand. He touched her palm gently, feeling that same shock as before, but now seemed somehow different. Taking her other hand for support, he started to step forward.

'Just don't look at the water.' She told him earnestly.

'What should I look at, then?' He asked, frustrated, as he suspended his foot over the lake.

'Here, tell me about my eyes.' She came up with quickly.

'They are blue.' He answered flatly.

'Oh, come now. You can do better than that.' She urged.

'Fine.' He gritted his teeth, looking at them and trying to find the words. 'They are a rich, dark blue. They are like cobalt or sapphire, depending upon the light. Even in complete darkness, they seem to shine a bit, though.' He went on.

'Alright, what about my hair?' She continued, smiling up at him.

'It's chestnut brown with long curls.'

She hummed pleasantly at his description.

'And my nose?'

'Pert.'

She laughed a bit as she slowly coaxed out a smile from his generally tight lips.

'What of my chin?' she asked almost playfully.

'It is pointed, making your face heart shaped.' He told her as his eyes continued to soften the nearer he was to her. It was only then that he realised she had moved one of his hands to her waist and was now holding the other as if in preparation to waltz. He looked down at her in surprise, not knowing what else to do.

'Usually the man leads.' She told him, still grinning.

'But there is no music.' He scrambled to find another excuse, but his mind was too focused on the fact that she was very close to him and also beneath his gentle grasp.

'No, but there is generally some song playing in your head.' She noted.

Erik could not help the overwhelming smile that came across his features at this. She returned them happily as they started to dance across what he was slowly understanding to be the lake. He understood now why she may have wished him to remove his shoes, but having sodden socks would have been no better. Somehow, despite their height difference, she was the perfect partner, matching his long strides with ease and never once complaining when he missed a step. To anyone looking on, he was sure that her effortless grace made all of his mistakes seem intentional.

Twirling her, he relished the feeling of her coming back, wrapped in his arms. She giggled slightly when he had done this, but quickly settled, leaning back to look up at him over her shoulder before he turned her back round to face him. He stopped then, simply looking down at her with an unusual gleam in his eyes. He realised suddenly that his eyes were focusing in on her lips and he pulled back a bit, stiffening and hardening his gaze.

Christine felt a slight pang of disappointment at this as she had been deeply enjoying the feeling of dancing so closely to him. She had felt more alive than she knew she needed to when holding his hand and feeling his at her waist. When he stepped away, she felt the spell break and her heart sink. Still, she managed to smile smugly up at him.

'I never knew you could dance so wonderfully.' She observed.

'You never asked.' He pointed out, continuing to distance himself from her gaze which attempted to pull him in.

She hummed thoughtfully. 'True, but asking if someone knows how to dance on a lake is rather odd.' Her smile grew wider as the realisation finally hit him. He had been dancing…on water!

He started to look down at his feet, when she rushed forward, cupping his jaw and forcing his eyes to meet hers as she exclaimed her protest over his attempted shift in attentions. They stared at each other for a moment as the shock spread from his face to hers. She stuttered over words and apologies before letting a hand carefully trail down to one of his, careful to keep contact until she was gasping his pinkie finger alone. She let her gaze shift about as she tried to find some excuse for her brash actions, but finding none, she decided to simply lead them off the lake.

Once on dryer land, she released him, turning away and averting her eyes as if in shame. He regarded her for a moment before speaking.

'Shall we go back inside?' He offered, gesturing towards the house.

'I will join you momentarily. I have something I need to think over.' She excused, hoping he would not press. He consented easily, also hoping for an out.

Christine remained in the darkness, looking at the stone of the walls and floor of the underground structure. She remembered all too well when they had discovered this area when they first built the place. Charles Garnier had been livid, while Erik calmly constrained in his patience. Despite what he had said before, he had possessed the patience of a saint while dealing with the struggles of the construction. It was his element and he had had handled it all with God-like skill. To this day, she still wondered how he had managed to oversee all that he had. No piece of his marvellous Opera had been without his attentive care. He had wanted to raise a palace, and indeed he had. Despite all of its years of hardship and torment, it had survived, much like he had. She thought that perhaps this was more of the true reason he repeatedly denied Nadir's insistence that he move. He had been through too much both in his lifetime and with this building to part from it. It was a part of him and he it. There was no Palais Garnier without the Opera Ghost skulking about its basement and walls. She knew Nadir had hoped against hope that this would prove to be untrue, but the Persian was too clever and knew Erik too well to think such entreaties would come to fruition. Erik was in love with one thing and one thing only: the Opera. It was his kingdom of all his passions, his music, his art, his tenacity in endurance, all of it was his, and so his gave himself to it freely.

But now, now was a different story. His home had once been his muse, his whole world carved into stone and wood, but now it lacked the lustre he had once admired and infused it with. None of it held his attentions for long as it all repeated itself over and over again. Despite what she had said to the contrary, Christine knew that the endless cycle of the performance seasons had lost their touch upon Erik's imagination. The seamless blend between poetry and music no longer held sway in his growing world of darkness. These could be remedied if he only had the faith in himself to allow in a change. If he were not so stubborn and set to his idea of being too old to travel, and his ridiculous need to settle down somewhere, perhaps he could be happy.

Christine had watched him long enough to know that with each passing year he had stood less tall, spoken less kindly, and loved less deeply. He was growing lonely. His building, his kingdom, his monument to all he held dear, no longer satisfied him. His heart was growing empty and tired. He needed something to infuse with his passion and his unfathomable admiration. She had simply never considered that it might be her.

She had appeared before him because he had finally reached the point where he could no longer function. He had given up on there being anything worth his attentions in the world. He had made himself believe that he was utterly useless to the hunk of rock mankind had called earth. She had wished to relieve him of this, and nothing more. She had come to show him all of the wonders the world had always possessed, but that he had so carelessly forgotten. But something had happened. He had started to want to see her. He had desired her company above the inspiration for his art. He had begun to wish for her presence instead of one of the multitude of beings that inhabited his city or even his Opera. He had grown attached to his angel. Her mistake was not only in letting him, but for doing the same.

For years she had tirelessly watched over him, helping him in any way she could, but now that he knew this, her actions took on more meaning. It was no longer the little favours she never expected to be thanked for, but adventures designed to bring her as much joy as him. This dance upon the lake was meant for her to test her abilities while also letting him experience something new. But more than that, it was for her to have him close.

She relished his touch and held it jealously in high esteem. For so long she had craved it, to only brush his hand once would have been enough, she told herself repeatedly, but now she had embraced him, held his hand innumerable times, danced with him even! She felt like she had been the one who was sent to Heaven. But now the weight of her desires to remain like this with him were crushing her duty to only guide him back to his state of distracted business. She was meant to pull him towards finding happiness in the world, not in her. She was being selfish and he would inevitably pay the price.

She looked back at the house with melancholy as she remembered his smile while they waltzed. He had seemed so happy with her, and yet she must now distance herself from him. Such was the fate of a guardian angel.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: *Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts, read at your own discretion if having suffered from such thoughts or depression. Remember, depression lies.***

 **Thank you the girl with the red scarf, Phanatic01, AResidentGhost, and Erika H. Daae for following/favouriting this story. A bonus thank you to Erika for reviewing (your profile won't let me PM you to thank you personally, so here it is). I hope you all enjoy this emotional rollercoaster of a chapter!**

They spent the rest of the evening with a singing lesson before Erik very nearly fell asleep sitting up at the organ. He argued lightly with her over his need to sleep, but in the end, her gentle shoving towards his bedroom persuaded him to go. Once more he made her promise to stay, and she reminded him that it was not up to her. This made him stop at his door. He turned round to look at her with a confused expression.

'Do you ever tire of that?' He asked at length.

'Of what?'

'Relying on me to provide your tangibility.' He looked at her as an as yet unnamed expression flitted across her face.

'Just go to bed, Erik.' She pressed, not meeting his now hurtfully pitying gaze.

He bowed a nod and bid her good night. He left her alone in the drawing room, her arms crossed as if she were cold. She did not wish to think of such things, let alone have him worry over them for her.

She remembered her promise to herself to make him rely a little less upon her company for his happiness, but as days passed, she was beginning to question her methods and resolve. He took her to performances, offered to give tours of the Opera, though he knew she was as familiar with the place as he was, and even brought her into the great glass dome to watch a thunderstorm one night. She had ooed and ahed at the lightning as it streaked its way across the Paris skyline. She would close her eyes to the resonance of the thunderclaps, occasionally laughing at their powers when they echoed through the mostly empty building. Throughout all of this, she felt Erik's smile grow wider and more comfortable on his usually tightly sarcastic face.

In truth, a part of her did not want any of it to stop. She wanted to keep spending time with him, to allow him to make her smile in return. Twenty years was a long time to spend alone. Perhaps alone was not the best word. Unintentionally ignored. Yes, that was more accurate. Still, she felt it was wrong to make him long for the company of someone who was, to the rest of the world, non-existent. He should be attaching himself to a real person with a beating heart and quick wit, not one who had long been dead and unseen to anyone but him.

She decided to take action one evening when they were about to start their music lesson.

'Are you ready, my dear?' He asked as he stretched his fingers over the ivory keys.

She fought back the glowing warmth in her breast bone at the title he had given her some days previous. 'Erik, I think it best if we talk.' She told him, trying to look stern and not melt at the slight wash of disappointment her words brought to his strangely luminous eyes.

'About what? Is something wrong?' He asked as she toyed with her hands nervously.

'Erik, I know you have been enjoying my being here, and believe me, I have too, but I think it best if you try to…distance yourself.' She told him, hoping the straightforwardness of her approach would help to understand easier. He hated beating round any shrubbery of explanations.

'I thought the whole point of you being here was so that I would not become distant.' He retorted patiently.

'I meant from me.' She explained, pleading with his eyes for him to understand her reasoning.

'Ah, I see.' She looked at him concernedly as he leaned back a bit, putting up a hard wall within his gaze. 'You are tired of living with a monster.'

'What? No! Erik, that is not what I meant and you know it!' She protested, following him as he rose from the bench and started to move towards the kitchen.

'Then what is it, hmm? My company tires you? My monotonous life bores you? Well, I am sorry to be a disappointment to you, but I do not really know what you had in mind when deciding to look after me.' He spat at her, rising to his full rigid height. His eyes were sharp as he stared down at her, but she could see the hurt swimming hidden in their amber depths.

'Stop it! It is not that at all! I like being around you and seeing all of the wondrous things that happen in the Opera.' She explained, trying not to be daunted by his imposing figure.

'Then what is it?' He roared down at her.

'I am not alive!' She screamed.

This silenced him quite quickly.

'I cannot be your friend or companion because I am not alive. I died twenty years ago and am not even real to anyone but you. I may as well be a hallucination, Erik. There is nothing that I can give you beyond meagre protection and trying to find something for you to believe in. I was only ever meant to keep you safe. I appeared because you needed a reminder that life can hold interest for you, but you took me instead. I cannot stay tangible anymore because you are relying on me to make you happy, and I am not supposed to do that.' She looked up at him now. 'You have to find someone or something real to make you happy, Erik, not me.'

'But you are real.' He protested, hurt leeching out from his eyes to the rest of his face, though most of it was concealed by the white mask.

'Only to you. Erik, I do not have a reflection. When I asked you to describe my face on the lake, I did so to keep you distracted, but also because I do not know what I look like. If I have a heart, it does not beat. For all intense purposes, I am nothing but a ghost.' She admitted, letting a tear slip free from her watery eyes.

'You are not a ghost, you are an angel.' He insisted, reaching to brush his knuckles in her silken hair. She recoiled from his touch, making him freeze. She had never reject his contact before.

'Only to you.' She let the words sink in, knowing that despite how he fought, he believed them. That was all she needed to be able to disappear. His broken look at the space where she once had been proved that it had worked. She had made him find reason somewhere in his mind, and now he would not be able to see her.

She watched him turn away from the tears that threatened to overcome his eyes. He swallowed his sorrows hard and went off to the kitchen. She remained in the drawing room, letting her invisible weeping free. She told herself over and over again that it was for the best, but her selfish attachment told her otherwise.

* * *

For the next few days Erik…managed. That was what he referred to it as. Nadir was still busy looking for any information that could potentially be dredged up on Christine, and Christine herself as absent from visible company. Every now and again Erik would look hopefully to the sofa he knew she so enjoyed perching herself upon, hoping he would see her there, but then their argument would come ringing into his ears once more.

What aggravated him most about the whole ordeal was that he knew in some way she was right. If he truly were to try and make his life interesting again, he would need to fill it with something that was real. His inspiration needed to come from a more tangible source, not some being who appeared at odd times and could not be seen by the rest of humanity. Not that he went out seeking mankind's approval of his choice in friends.

He sighed heavily one day, again finding her absence weighing upon his thoughts. He decided to go up and see how the latest production was going. The new diva they had chosen was not what he would consider worthy of the job, but was the best they were going to get based upon the auditions.

Slinking about in the rafters and the catwalks above the stage, he made himself comfortable as the little ballerinas flounced and floated about the stage in their white tulle skirts and ivory point shoes. Erik spied a petite blonde dancer, Meg Giry, and smiled to see how well she was holding herself. He had promised little Meg's mother, Madame Giry, that he would look after her. In truth he looked after all of the girls like they were tiny ducklings, but having Madame Giry do small favours for him throughout the theatre ensured he bestowed extra attention upon the budding young ballerina. She was called to centre stage and performed her routine without hesitation while the other ballet rats watched on in a mix of respect and jealousy. Such was the life of a dancer.

Once she finished, her mother took her aside to point out every flaw that needed to be fixed. She took the words with a straight and attentive face, clearly noting a few she had been well aware of. She was shaping up to be a wonderful artist, able to take criticism, but play off mistakes as if they were intentional.

This thought threatened to drive Erik back to when he had danced with Christine. Somehow he had managed to put aside all of the intrusive wonderings of each and every step of that occasion, and he certainly was not about to think on it now. He decided to put the occurrence behind him and not delve any deeper than to admit that it happened.

Turning his attentions back to the stage, his brow furrowed when he saw the new soprano take the stage, the chorus having assembled behind in a chittering mass. One swift tap of Madame Giry's imperious walking stick and the chatter ceased, leaving only Monsieur Reyer's instructions calling out from the on-stage piano.

The soprano began to sing, warbling through notes she should have been smooth on, making M. Reyer stop repeatedly to remind her. Erik sneered at her, knowing that there was no better option.

 _If only Christine could sing it_ , he found himself wistfully wondering. He shook his head of the thought, remembering all too well her proclamation that she was not alive or real to anyone but him. He listened with now aching ear, longing to hear his angel's silvery light tones caress the air and her effortless grace to flood the stage rather than this foolish woman who did not know a sharp from a flat.

Growing impatiently frustrated by her voice, Erik stood and exited the walk, but not before releasing a sandbag to fall fairly close yet harmlessly to the singer below. He grinned wickedly as he swept himself into the shadows.

 _Yes,_ he thought. _I shall have some fun today._

Going over to the scenery, he started tying and untying certain pieces. Now, when they went to pull down a floral cut out, a castle wall would annoyingly be standing in its place. He found himself laughing at the images of the confused stage hands scrambling about to fix the problem, all the while wondering who had pulled such a useless stunt. It would harm no one, and they would quickly discover it when they went to doing more completed rehearsals.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork, but something in it felt hollow. His smile fell as he realised it was just a part of the same old routine. Just toy with them, watch them scramble about like ants near an approaching boot, and then it would all be back to normal with their continuance of cursing his name. Well, his persona's name to be precise. Opera Ghost, or Phantom of the Opera. He liked having the opportunity to be someone else, to be whatever he wanted to be while still having the real him to return to when the fun was over. But the fun had been over for some time now, he realised. The illusion had fallen flat and dead upon the audience and his tricks were running thin. Yet being himself all of the time had long lost its lustre.

Slumping his shoulders, he decided to climb his way up to the chandelier, always enjoying the view of his Opera from high above. He ascended upon somehow weary legs. He started to wonder if he were truly getting old; if this was what it felt like to hit the end of his youthful prime and energy. He no longer found his old haunts enjoyable, or haunting at all for that matter. His music did not come as easily as it once had, remembering when he would stay at his organ, composing for days on end until his fingers would not move. But even then he would soak them only to return or go off to design some grand home. Now he could find only enough energy to do one or the other in a day. His home seemed empty and his life just as barren.

He looked at his arms quizzically as they felt a longing to hold someone close. To be held and feel their warmth pool within him.

 _Damn that girl!_ He screamed internally, knowing that before her, he had never longed for such things so acutely. _If she had not held me, it would all just be empty dreaming, but now I know how it feels and I want it back. Damn her! She has made a human out of the ghost!_

He paced round the circular fastening for the chandelier, cursing and hating her for making him feel this way. What exactly this way was, he was uncertain, but he knew he hated it. He felt lonely and tired and old and all of the human qualities he had long despised in others. Beyond this, it made all of Nadir's damnable lectures come true. All of the Persian's scolding about needing someone to keep the masked man company, to occupy his time, to give him someone to take care of and long to please. All of it was true because of that girl who was not truly a girl. That was what made him hate her even more. She was not truly real enough to hate. She was just an angel.

He stopped pacing at that thought, letting out a dry laugh that echoed menacingly throughout the theatre.

 _Just an angel, God! I must be going mad!_ He laughed harder mentally. _Of course, it is about damned time for that! I have been losing my sanity for years. Perhaps now it will finally do me the favour of getting the Hell out._

Shaking his head, he looked down at the now frightened faces of those brave enough to remain on stage after the falling sandbag from earlier. He laughed again, but this one fell bitterly upon his lips. He scowled at nothing in particular, a thought of similar bitterness coming to his mind.

'What would you do if I ended it all?' He asked of the empty space, keeping his voice just low enough so no one else in the theatre could hear. 'How would you stop me? What if I jumped from here? Would you rush to catch me, or simply watch me plummet to the seats and the frightened stares below?' He accusingly asked, looking about somewhat wildly for the deep blue eyes he assumed would be shimmering with tears or unrivalled fury. That seemed to be all he could get out of her without pretending to be happy or falling under her spell.

He peered down at the floor a dizzying length below and scowled.

'No, I would not wish to go that way. I have been in the fascinated eyes of man for too long. God knows what they would do with my body upon finding it, were there anything of worth left to it.' He shook his head.

A fluttering of his cape and a few flashes of his porcelain mask later and Erik was standing in his boat, paddling across the underground lake, hating it all. He had once loved the darkness for it concealed him, but now it only served to trap him. He never truly had liked the sunlight, but to have it forcefully taken from him made him spitefully jealous of those who could walk in it without care. He hated the coldness of his home, requiring him to have the fireplace going almost constantly. He felt confined in the rock and stone that he had hollowed out for himself. His tomb encased and concealed him from the prying eyes of the outside world and separated him in his of shadowy solitude.

Tying off the boat, he leapt agilely to the shore, wondering if one day he would not be able to do so and his knees would give out beneath him. If he would be trapped to this hell for the end of his days. No, he decided, he would not wait for that horrid day to reel its ugly head. But then, he continued his dark musings, why should he wait for another day at all? Feeling a surge of excitement, he decided to test his limits. He had always enjoyed the thrill of doing wrong, why not try it now with an angel supposedly there to stop him.

Walking over to the edge of the lake, he stripped of his jacket, undid his tie and took off his shoes. The mask he would keep in place. Yes, he would keep his hideousness hidden until the end.

Part of him was simply curious as he set his shoulders and walked into the icy waters. He wondered if he would actually be able to let all of life's vicious claws release him and allow his mind to swim far away into the dark depths of the Hell he was assuredly destined to go to. He let the cold, black liquid of his lake take all of the heat from his body. He had always been colder anyways, and he certainly had no use for it now.

 _Just a few more steps and you will not have to pretend or even be yourself anymore. You will be free in just a few more steps._

What a fool he had been to ignore that silky sweet voice in his head for so long. How many times had he turned it away claiming lies? How many days had he listened to it but never acted upon its instructions?

He remembered when he had heard it last, when he had been hurt so badly movement was simply not worth the effort. It had told him to stay still and let the cold take over. Why had he not listened? Why had he sat up? Why had he let Christine save him?

He felt a shiver threaten to run through him, but he turned it away callously. It would serve no purpose to allow his body to complain of the cold when he wanted it to just all go numb. How glorious it must be to not feel a thing.

He took another step, but found it halted before it could touch the steeply declining bed of the lake. He looked down confusedly at his body as it refused to make further progress. He blinked as if he had sleep in his eyes as a song, broken by sobs, echoed through the cavern. Slowly, she came into focus. Her head was down facing the water, which came up to her breasts, and bent over slightly as she pushed against his chest. Her hair trailed into the dark depths of the lake and her back shook as she sobbed.

Erik found his hands coming up to hers, feeling how hard she was pushing to keep him from going any farther. He coiled his long fingers about hers and allowing her pressure to give some as her song faded into simple tears.

'Please,' she begged. 'Please stop this.' She was barely able to manage it out through the weight of her sorrows.

After a moment of looking at her with softened yet still emotionless eyes, he felt her arms give, bringing her head to his chest as she wept into him. He found suddenly that he had no breath, but could not think on how to regain it. It was not until her voice came ringing through his ears again that he realised what he had been doing.

'Please do not die. Do not leave me.' She pleaded, staining the still dry part of his shirt with her tears.

It was then that his arms hesitantly curved round her, touching lightly at her back and her head as he returned the partial embrace. She buried her head somehow further into him as he leaned over to release tears he was only vaguely aware he had been withholding.

'Erik, please.' She begged once more and he only held her tighter.

He felt his vision starting to blur as he lifted her up into his arms and started to carry her to the house. He stopped at the front door, watching oddly coloured spots dance before his eyes as he gently set her down. Leaning heavily against the door, he heard her concerned words wash through him like liquid only before he fell forwards, the world going black.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I am posting this just a teensy bit earlier than usual as I am starting school back. I wanted to take this opportunity to let you all know that though Friday's post time will not change (before noon EST), Monday may be a bit later in the day as I try to get as much done early in the week as I can. I appreciate your understanding, thank Erika H. Daae for your continued reviews, and hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

Erik lay in bed, not his coffin, of course, but the bed in the Louis-Phillippe room that Christine seemed to favour so highly for his comfort. He had to admit that it was just ever so slightly more conducive to healing than his own dark hole of a bedroom. He blinked blearily as little flashes of time appeared in his mind. He remembered falling outside after his "swim" and vague images of Christine leaning over him, was she crying? He could not remember. Then he thought he had come to the conclusion that he had been sick. Most likely the chill water of the lake had given him a cold. He did not remember the coughing that would accompany pneumonia or the delirium suggesting a fever, but any illness was unusual to him. He stayed in good health most of the time, so perhaps that was the reason for Christine's distress. A part of him was just happy that she was here again. He was uncertain as to where his mind had wandered off to in her absence. He had contemplated such dismal things simply by not having her there. Now, more than ever, he found himself worrying over his mental health. If he could consider death so passively after her being gone only a few days, what would he do if she left him for good? His own attachment frightened him, but not so much as what hers may be. He was confused as to why any person would wish to spend time with him, and why she smiled whenever he looked at her. Should she not be wishing for his ignorance to her existence?

Part of the answer to his question appeared to him when he looked over to his right to see her sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his hand, and absently soothing his knuckles with her thumb as she gazed off distantly.

'Christine?' He managed out softly, hoping to pull her back gently. His breath nearly caught when she put the beautiful weight of her eyes into his own, and turning to reveal tear tracks on her soft pink cheeks. She looked about to cry all over again as she came back to this plane of space and saw him.

'Erik, how are you feeling?' She asked, obviously trying not to show her quickly overwhelming emotions.

'I am fine. What happened?' He asked mostly to keep her talking.

'You caught a cold from being in the lake.' She answered, her countenance darkening with obvious despair. 'I am so sorry.' She finally said in a meek voice, her chin ducking to hide its quiver.

'For what? It was not your fault. And see, I am better now.' He hurriedly tried to put her off, but the tears were already starting.

 _Damn!_ He thought, _what am I supposed to do when she cries?_

'If I hadn't left you and been so mean to you, none of this would have happened. I made you…' She could not manage out the words, sending a wave of guilt to join his already mounting panic.

'Christine, you-'

'May I lay beside you?' She asked, cutting off his reassurances.

'What?'

'May I lay down beside you?' She repeated. 'Please?'

Erik found himself nodding before he had fully processed her request. It was only when he felt her curl up beside him, still holding his hand that realised what he had done. He felt his breathing tense and his chest constrict as he moved to his side to give her more space and to keep her from touching him. If he allowed that, he would most assuredly faint.

'I am so sorry.' She said again, tears flowing down and into the bedding she was laying on top of.

'You do not need to be.' He heard himself say softly.

She cried harder at this, now releasing a few heart wrenching sobs. Erik looked on in horror as she drove deeper into her despair. He tried his best to sooth her with his voice, and it seemed to work some, but the salty drops still poured from her ocean blue eyes.

She clutched at his hand now, holding it as if it were some sort of hard won prize. He wondered at this, but again she answered his unspoken question.

'For twenty years I have watched over you and protected you from as many dangers as I could, but more than anything I just watched you. For years I used to dream that if I could just once brush your fingertips or graze your shoulder, then I would be happy forever. I longed for the day when you might finally hear me singing along with your music, or maybe glance my way, but you never did. I knew it was silly to wish for such things when you did not even know I was there, but I just could not help wanting it. I used to persuade myself that you were too busy to notice me, or that this was all just a dream, but then you would do something and I knew I was only lying to myself. Then one day, you actually did see me, and heard me, and I could finally touch you.' She cried harder again at this, giving his palm a gentle squeeze as if to ensure that he was still there. 'I had only ever dreamt that you might notice me, but then we argued and you took my hand, and you carried me, and I thought for certain I had died and gone to Heaven all over again. For twenty years I had longed for just the smallest sign that you would someday know I was there. So, when I can hold your hand now,' she pulled it to her a bit, nearly brushing her cheek. 'You simply can't know how wonderful that feels.'

Erik watched her with a mixture of wonder and pity as she cried beside him. He was starting to understand her now. He tried to imagine just watching someone, unseen, for years. It was not so much that she hid on purpose, but that she was forced to. He could hardly comprehend an existence where no matter how much you wanted to, you were forced to watch over someone without them even knowing you were there. What torture she must have endured for so long, but her proclamation that he would not understand her bliss at this moment was wrong. He knew exactly how glorious the contact felt, because, though he may fight it viciously, he felt it too. He treasured how she touched him without concern or question, how she actively sought out his touch was still slightly beyond him even with her explanation, and how she could doubt his valuing of her almost made him weep. Of course, the latter he knew was simply because he had yet to tell her. If he were a braver man, perhaps he would, but at present he was too busy trying to keep his breathing calm. He would suffice telling her how beautiful she was and how he longed for her to be embracing him again in his mind only. For now, he would allow her the obvious pleasure of holding his cold, bony hand to her shining, lush face.

* * *

Erik continued the rest of the day out of bed, much to Christine's protests, and somewhat enjoying her persistent glances at him at random periods. He would find her peeking over her book if he moved even a little, he would hear her listing to him if he left the drawing room for very long, and he had to answer several hundred times that he was fine at her constant questioning of his wellbeing. He found it amusing to have someone so worried about him all the time, but also concerning that he would again be dependent upon her being there. His latest act worried him more than he currently cared to let on. He had considered death an easy escape without reasoning it first. He had let his depression lie to him. Perhaps having Christine around was a good thing.

Towards that evening, however, his company was interrupted by another concerned friend. Nadir was not afraid to show his apprehension over Erik's somehow paler countenance.

'Are you all right?' He asked instantly upon entering the house.

'I am fine, Daroga.' Erik answered, giving Christine a look a she smirked over the back of the sofa at him while Nadir came into the room.

'What happened to you?' The Persian questioned as he took his usual seat beside Erik's chair.

'Nothing you need concern yourself with, old friend. Suffice it to say that I did something foolish and suffered a brief cold. I am well enough now.' Erik gave another pointed glance at Christine who only pursed her lips against giggles.

Nadir followed his friend's gaze, frowning concernedly when he saw nothing on the sofa worthy of such attentions. 'Still seeing your angel, I take it?' He asked, wondering if this truly was the conversation he wished to have at present. Rather, the argument he would assuredly be stepping into.

'Yes, I am.' Erik announced defensively. 'Perhaps it is simply that you are too old and blind to see her.' He made up, though Nadir knew that was far from the reason. He watched his friend again respond to some unseen expression from the vicinity of the sofa.

'If now is not a good time-' Nadir started amusedly.

'No, it's fine. You have my full attentions.' He turned away from the snickering Christine. 'I heard that!' He snapped at her as she muttered something to the contrary.

'Erik,' Nadir raised his hands in a placating gesture towards the man. 'If it were not other facts, I would think you insane.' He said calmly to the quickly growing irked man before him.

'Forgive me, Daroga, but she is being difficult.' He again snapped in her presumed direction.

Nadir sighed. 'Mademoiselle, if you would not mind, there is something I wish to discuss with your charge in private. Would you be so kind as to wait in another room, perhaps?' He asked politely of the sofa.

Erik marvelled at Christine's shocked expression. Never in her existence had someone spoken to her in so formal a way, especially when they could not see her. She shook off the surprise, letting a glowing smile alight her face as she nodded a bow and swept from the room. Erik watched her go into the kitchen with something akin to jealousy at never having given her that smile. He returned his now glaring gaze back to the mildly patient Nadir.

'What is so important that you must shoo her from the room?' Erik asked, letting in a bit of his offended tone bite at his words.

'This.' Nadir said, handing Erik a small yellowed envelope. He looked at it and his Persian friend questioningly before opening it and sliding out the various pieces of paper. 'It was all I could find on her that is in this country. If you want more, then I would suggest you go to Sweden.' The Daroga said dryly.

The excited and eager curiosity ebbed from Erik considerably upon reading a particular article. All colour seemed to drain from his already paled complexion. Even his eyes lost their glow as he read and reread a clipping that appeared to be from a newspaper's obituary report.

'Is it her?' Nadir asked, growing concerned over his companion's reaction.

Erik looked up, putting a dull front before his eyes. 'Thank you, Daroga. I commend you on your good work and request that you never mention this to anyone.' He said in a strange monotone.

'Erik, are you-'

'I am fine.' He cut off rather sharply and louder than he had anticipated. He seemed to realise this. 'Forgive me. I am fine, truly. You need not worry yourself.' He said in a softer voice of calm. 'Please,' he waved his hand to the chess set. 'Let us play our game.'

Nadir agreed, but kept a wary eye upon the man whilst they continued their ongoing battle. As usual, he did not win, but he came a bit closer. He wondered what in the information had worried him so. He of course had read it when trying to find the mysterious girl Erik had found himself so enraptured with, but nothing in it would be enough to make the man who had tortured and killed dozens blanch, certainly. It was then that Nadir truly became concerned for his friend's health. It was enough to imagine ghosts or angels or whatever he wished to call this Christine woman, but the sudden illness and his latest display of odd behaviour had put a new worry in his heart. Perhaps living underground was effecting him more than the Persian had thought.

'Erik, why don't you come up and stay with me for a day or two? Just to get out a bit.' Nadir offered as he prepared to leave for the evening.

'As I have expressed to you before, old friend, there is nothing that interests me above ground beyond my Opera. I am perfectly contented to remain here. Besides, I should not wish to befoul your home with my morbid presence.' He smiled darkly and Nadir felt a bit of hope rise in him. It felt strange to know that when Erik degraded himself, it meant things were normal…at least for a time.

'Very well, you stubborn ass of a man,' Nadir replied with a tired glare. 'But you know my door is always open to you.'

'A mistake you should have learned not to make back in Persia.' Erik replied with a grim smirk.

'Yes, yes.' Nadir waved over his shoulder as he made his way out into the cave surrounding the lake before heading off to the pathway he used so often, skirting around traps as he went.

Erik watch his old companion go, thinking on what had been said and discovered this night. He wondered how he was meant to continue with this new knowledge not only of Nadir's obvious concerns, but also of Christine. He knew more about her than she did herself, but he was afraid he was not brave enough to reveal it all to her. What if she left him? What would he do? He cursed himself his selfishness, but still did not find the heart to change his intentions.

'Erik,' he heard so softly behind him he could have sworn it had come from a dove. Indeed, her modest stance, hands clasped before her and head tipped down slightly, and grey dress made her appear more bird than woman. Especially when he knew this woman could hold her own against his crushing temper. 'Is everything all right? You seemed distressed.' She cocked her head gently to the side, making him almost gasp at how lovely she looked. She appeared to be the picture of innocence.

'No, my dear, everything is fine, as I have said multiple times today. I simply find the Daroga's company challenging sometimes.' He assured her, coming over and reaching out to stroke her arms before rescinding his hands. He simply stood before her gazing down at her with all of the gentility he had. She met his gaze, causing his heartbeat to quicken its pace.

They stood there in silence a moment before the silence weighed too heavily upon her.

'I have been thinking on what you should do to occupy your time.' She told him, not moving, but shattering the growing essence between them.

'Oh?' He asked, feeling the moment end, but oddly hungry to start another. Something about her made him wish to curiously see the end of such encounters. He fought a laughing smile as she nodded, looking very much like a child as she did so.

'I have come up with a challenge for you.' She said, getting a playfully proud grin.

'And what is this new obstacle you have found to occupy my time?' He asked, growing curious.

'I want you to finish your opera.' She announced.

Erik stopped and stared at her beaming face. 'You want me to finish _Don Juan Triumphant_?' He asked in disbelief.

She hummed with her nod. 'I want to hear it all the way through. I have been listening to you compose it for years, and I think all you need is a nice stubborn push to get you to finish it. Think of it as a commission.' She explained somewhat more thoughtfully.

'Is that so?' He asked, growing uneasy. 'And what is my payment for completing my only musical masterpiece?' He continued to look down at her as she thought it through.

'You shall have to wait and find out.' She said slyly.

'Ah, but what if my payment is not worth the labour?' He pressed, enjoying their game.

'Do you not trust me?' She asked, allowing a bit of concern to enter into her voice.

'That is not the point, my dear. Such a large commission requires an advance, something of a security that you are truly invested in the project.' He countered, finding his voice turning deeper and smoother the more he gazed at her.

She seemed thoughtful for a moment before taking his hands in hers. He drew back slightly from her at this, but kept his hands still. He watched her with a quickening pulse as she raised his hands to her face, neither breaking eye contact until his knuckles rose to the level of her lips. Erik felt his knees go weak and threaten to wobble as she cast her eyes down and placed a small kiss upon each hand right between the front two knuckles. His breath hitched terribly, but she remained serene as she flicked her innocently blue eyes back up to his amber orbs of widened shock and surprise.

'Will that suffice as a down payment?' She asked in her sweetly childlike tone.

Erik felt his breath rush back to him in a gasp as he struggled to remain standing. He had never in his entire life been kissed anywhere upon his repeatedly proclaimed hideous body. Now he had not one, but two kisses delivered by an actual angel to his hands which had once been deemed spidery and morbid. He closed his eyes to relish the memory of her soft lips' touch upon his pale skin. How warm her breath had been skating over the backs of his hands and her gentle fingers coiled with his.

'Erik?' She asked, drawing him out of his trance of unrivalled happiness. 'Will you accept the commission?' She pressed, looking more worried now.

'Yes. For you, I shall.' He answered, as her fingers slipped gracefully from his. He felt a wince of longing once her touch had left him, but his promise to her kept him from showing it. He immediately went over to his organ, and started organising his sheets of already composed music. It would take little to get him started, but should he hit a wall, he was not sure how he would manage to overcome it. He thought then of her "payment" and nearly fainted wondering what her final reward to him would be.

Throwing his mind into his work, he began playing through his head to his fingers the fragments of songs that had long haunted him but had lacked the inspiration to pursue.

Christine watched him as he sat at his organ for several hours, occasionally playing a bit, but mostly just writing from his own mind. She had always been amazed by his skill with music, but seeing him compose was akin to watching a master painter or stonemason, which, of course, he could also do with considerable skill. But music was his realm, his own domain that he could shape and control to suit him. The most spectacular thing about it, though, was that it was not pleasing just to him. Anyone with an ear could listen and instantly be swept away by his music, even though it reflected so much of himself. This was how she had felt she knew him even before they had officially met. She had come to know his innermost self from listening to him play. It never lost its charm, and the more she had experience with him, the more it came to mean for her. Smaller nuances came to hold importance when coupled with being able to sit with him in Box 5, or caring for him while he slept. It all meant more now that she had been not just around him, but with him.

She sat on the sofa as the night drew on, and she began to wonder if he was going to stop any time soon. She was still concerned over his health as his cold, though light and brief, was only recently passed. She looked over to him, noting little change in his positioning or vigour for his work. She absently felt her lips where they had kissed his hands earlier. Had she really been so convincing simply through her kiss? She shook her head, knowing that when he got into these runs of creativity, he would often remain there for some time, not stopping even to eat.

Rising from her seat, she went into the kitchen and made him some food. She doubted he would eat it, but she accompanied it with a glass of water, hoping he would at the very least hydrate himself. She came back into the drawing room and cautiously placed it on a table beside the organ. If he noticed her presence, he did nothing to show it.

She hovered for a moment, checking to see if he needed anything and simply curious as to how his progress was coming. He had completed a particularly lengthy song, finished and refined another, and was composing a new one. He had yet to put any words to it, but the melody looked quite enchanting.

Fearful of aggravating him, she went back to her book, occasionally peeking over the binding at him to make sure he was still functioning.

A few more hours passed, and Christine was beginning to worry for him. He needed to rest to ensure he would not grow ill again. Finding some courage within her, she once more came to his side, this time waiting until he seemed to be a good point to stop him at least momentarily.

'Erik?' She asked in her sweetest voice. 'Erik?' She repeated when he did not show any signs of hearing her. 'Erik I think you should get some rest.' She beckoned hopefully to him. Still, he did not move. Growing concerned, she reached out to his shoulder. Her hand only went through him. She staggered back, gasping in surprise as he remained absorbed in his work. She was no longer tangible.

She stood there for a moment, watching him as he continued to compose his opera.

 _This is what you wanted, is it not?_ She thought to herself. _To give him something to do so that he could move on with his life without the threat of lonely boredom hanging over him? To forget about needing you and simply break free?_

Christine felt the distinct sting of tears prick her eyes. She knew it was wrong to wish for him to always need her. He was human and was meant to be in human company, not haunted by an angel. But still, his touch and his soft gaze brought forth her pain at the loss. She began to wonder if perhaps this push to get him to compose would tear him away from her forever. What if it was what he had needed all along to get him back into enjoying life?

She felt her breath catch in a sob as the unwanted tears overflowed her lashes. It was wrong, but she still wanted it. She wanted to have him need her to be there so that he could smile. She wanted him to spend time with her and miss her when she was gone. She wanted all of the things she could no longer have. She wanted all of the things that were granted exclusively to mortals. She had lived her life, and now she must guard him as he lived his. It was silly and wrong to grow attached like this. She hated herself for wishing for things that could never be. Things he may never want but that she spent her nights wakefully dreaming of.

She turned away from his black clad back as he continued to slave over the instrument of his masterpiece. She tried to ignore the ache in her chest where she knew her heart was, or should be at the very least. Thoughts such as this hurt even more, knowing that they only evidenced her knowledge that it was never meant to be any more than what it was between them. She hated herself over wishing for something greater than the gifts he had already presented through his gentle touch and soft smiles. His glances, his words of encouragement as he taught her to sing, his little gestures towards her, all of it were more than she should ever have wanted or deserved. She was just an angel, not a human.

This final thought sent her crumpling to her knees as she let the weight of disappointment's heavy hand crush into her pit of sorrows. She allowed her heart, existent or otherwise, sink somehow deeper into the foundations of the Opera House. She let it wash away down the flowing currents of the Seine along with all of the hopes she knew to be foolish.

'Christine?' She heard the lovely voice behind her, guessing he would give up in realisation that she was no longer visible to him. He would quickly go back to his work and ignore her again. When he finished it, he may look for her, but by then he might have discovered a need to compose something else, or even draw up a wondrous house or two. He may even take the new soprano under his wing and teach her to sing properly as he had her. In any case, he would forget to need her, and eventually forget her entirely. It would work wonderfully and she could watch him as she long since had only this time safe in the knowledge that for some brief moment of his life, she had been there.

It was because of these overwhelming and swirling thoughts of her own condemnation that she failed to notice the presence beside her, tentatively wrapping his arms round her shaking form, though not brave enough to touch her. It was only when she heard her name spoken again in a sorrowfully worried voice at her ear that she realised where Erik now sat.

Leaping to her feet and quickly wiping her eyes of her tears, she sniffled back what she could to sound at least partially put together.

'Erik, you startled me.' She told him, not meeting his somewhat panicked gaze. 'Are you done composing for the day? I see you made quite a bit of progress. Are you hungry? I made you some dinner earlier in case you wanted anything.' She rambled on quickly, still avoiding his eye which continued to hold worry over her current state.

'Christine,' he interrupted her before she could manage to start up again. 'Is everything all right?'

'That seems to be the question of the day, doesn't it?' She said after a heavy sigh. 'Yes, Erik, I am fine.'

He hummed, clearly unconvinced. 'Then why, pray tell, were you just crying, my dear?' He questioned, turning to look fairly accusingly at her back.

'Crying? Don't be silly, I was not-' She stopped short as Erik grabbed her arm and turned her round to face him. He loomed over her, his intimidating height towering over her small form. She seemed only to diminish further when under his heavy gaze.

'Christine, I demand to know what is wrong.' He told her firmly.

'Demand? You demand to know my thoughts?' She asked, growing fiery in her tone.

'Yes, dammit!' He snapped at her, a flame flickering in his illuminated eyes. 'I am tired of playing your games, hearing you speak of letting go only to force me from doing as I choose, watching you lie to me as you fill me with hollow promises only intended to drive you from my mind. I am tired of it, Christine. I want…' He trailed off, not at her tears, but at the fearfully sorry look in her eye.

'You want something more real.' She finished for him. 'I am sorry, Erik, but that is something I simply cannot give.' She admitted, turning her head to look at the floor.

Erik shakily released her arms, realising that he had been holding on far too tightly.

'Why do you wish for me to forget you when it brings so much pain?' He asked, gingerly seeking out her cobalt eyes.

'Because it is what you need.' She answered him in that old calm voice. 'I am only here to protect you, nothing more and nothing less. Yet you would have me remain here for all time, keeping you company and assuming a role I am no longer capable of playing. I am not human anymore, Erik, and though I may weep for you and smile at you, I am no more real than the Opera Ghost. I am your Phantom, Erik. I haunt you to remind you what could be if you only gave life a chance.' She watched as he turned away from her with a hurt expression and a growl. 'I know this is not what you wished to hear, but please listen to me. I am nothing greater than a figment of your imagination.'

'Then why do you cry?' He asked, repeating his earlier question.

Christine tensed at this, drawing back slightly as she searched the space about her for an answer.

'Christine,' he beckoned to her challengingly. 'Why do you cry if you do not wish for me to grow attached to you?' He was growing in height again, unfurling from his pitiful crouch.

'Erik, please-'

'Answer me!' He bellowed, drawing more tears to her eyes as she shrank away from him.

'Because I too wish for things that cannot be. Because I am selfish and foolish and undeserving of your attentions. I am the child who longs to touch the sky yet does not possess the wings to do so. I want things, yet I know I should not for they will only bring me despair and disappointment. Please do not ask me why I cry, Erik, for I do not dare tell you the thoughts which rage against my very nature. Please do not ask it of me. Please.' She begged, sinking ever further until she was almost back where she started upon the floor.

Erik continued to stand over her kneeling form as she wrapped her arms about herself in some sorrowful form of comfort while she sobbed. He felt very much the beast for dragging her to this low and pitiful state, but her refusal to tell him what she was thinking grated upon his ire. He had long wondered where her feelings for him lay, whether in duty or affection, but now he was scared to know the answer. He had guessed it for some time, but the confirmation was too much to bear.

Turning, he stormed off to his room, leaving the small heap of crying Christine to her own devises until one of them could manage to compose themselves.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: See if anyone can find the Alice in Wonderland reference in the third paragraph. I'll give you a hint: it's from the poem at the beginning of the book.**

Erik sat in the darkness of his room for some time before finally deciding it best to sleep. He had had a long and rather trying day. Besides all of Christine's confusing antics, he was still feeling the weariness of illness latching hold of him.

Folding himself into his coffin, he braced for sleep. It felt odd to be thinking in those terms, but when it came to rest for Erik, there was very little in the way of soothing dreams or wistful peace. Most of his nights were filled with nightmares which would wake him to his own hard breathing or trailing yells of fright. Some were memories, others simply feelings. It was strange for him to think of being utterly terrified by the vaguest of sensations, but when faced with them in his unconscious mind, he could find no qualm with running from them or shrinking back in unquestioning terror.

Tonight was a bit different, however, as his mind was invaded by memories of days he would much rather forget. The old sound of a whip, never dulled by memory's mystic band, sharply cracked through his mind, scarring the flesh of his delicate subconscious once more. He winced in his sleep, feeling the hot trails slip down his sides as the wound stung with the clean air of the night. How the old names he had been so callously called through the years came picking at him like cuts from a blade. Blades. He felt them score his flesh as the haze of anger, vengeful lust, and reality-warping drugs swept through him. He heard the laughs of the tormentors he so foolishly yet blindly followed, how they jeered at him even then when he was so well respected. Respect through fear was the only way for him. It would never come from…

Her eyes, sapphire blue, sliced through the horrid memories and pains of old. Her laugh, so seldom heard yet forever cherished, washed clean his blackest sins. Her gentle touch, porcelain skin of flawless smoothness akin to velvet toyed at the fingertips so long used to delivering pain and suffering. Her smile warmed the heart he had long forsaken to the follies of man for ever daring to create it along with the rest of him. What good was a heart when no one allowed him to show it? But _she_ did. _She_ allowed him to soar amongst the heavens of happiness only to find his feet right where they had always been. She showed him the wonders his childlike eyes had long matured to ignore. She saw the beauty he so adored and she allowed it to embody _her_. _She_ was true beauty and he had turned from her.

Sitting up with a start, Erik looked about his room in confusion. He searched the darkness for those enticing orbs of the deepest blue. Seeing well enough, he still found his arms stretched out before him in hopes of catching her hand, to feel that shock that rushed through his every ounce. His ears strained in vain hopes of hearing her song, or even simply calling his name. His name, so seemingly ordinary, sounded almost divine when ushered from her perfect pink lips and sung through her silvery voice. He longed to see his angel, for that was what she was; in form and character.

Flying from his bed on legs that forcefully denied their tiredness, he flung the door open to see the drawing room bathed in darkness. Fear instantly gripped his heart at this odd atmosphere. He hurried to the sofa to see his darling angel laying on her side with her grey dress trickling over the edge of the cushions like a stormy waterfall. Her eyes were closed, though her silvery light still shone from her. Crouching before her, he realised that she was in a state similar to sleep. He knew she did not sleep unless drained of energy from her supernatural abilities, so seeing her this way had startled him.

Running his fingers through the air above the gentle form of her features, he felt all foolishness at his jumped conclusions ebb away. Being in her presence, with the exceptions of their arguments, seemed to bring into him an unusual state of calm. He held back a gasp as she seemed to smile in her somewhat sleep. He wondered if perhaps their row earlier had actually drained her and she was truly sleeping. He felt a pang of guilt over partially causing this distress in her. He thought it odd that he would feel this way over an angel, or anyone, really. For years he had lived without the pesky human limiter known as a conscience, but now, with her, he felt it holding him at bay to be cut through by his harsher emotions. Still, if that was the price he must pay to keep her here, then so be it.

He sat before her, continuing to watch her sleep while he pondered this. When had he become so intent upon her staying? When had he started to need her presence so desperately to remain alive on this earth? He thought of the previous night, or perhaps day when he had attempted to sink into the cold, dark waters that rippled enticingly just outside his home. He had felt as though nothing in the world mattered because he was on his own. Perhaps it was a side effect of growing old. As much as he liked to poke at Nadir over the man's advancing age, he was not getting any younger. His best guess would put his current age at around forty or so. Was it normal for all men to grow lonely as they aged? To long for the company of a beautiful young woman, albeit her being their guardian angel? He scowled at the lecherousness of that thought. He hated the thoughts of man and how one descriptive word intentioned to be a compliment turned him into yet another of the lustful men who disgustingly scoured the streets for the supple bosom of a lovely lady.

Laying upon the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, he stared up at the ceiling, hoping the coolness of the floor would simmer the boil of his blood at the idea of disgusting men taking advantage of the delicacies of youths of the opposite sex. Just because men were generally stronger did not give them the right to force themselves upon one who was smaller and daintier. Though certainly there were some women who were not so ladylike and who flagrantly asked for such debaucheries. Erik sighed, realising that this train of thought would not be ceased simply by a cold floor.

Looking up at the figure stretched upon his sofa, he found himself intricately examining each and every detail of her face. From her pert nose –he remembered her laugh at this descriptions of it- to her long curling eyelashes, she was the picture of beauty. Perhaps this was why the Heavens had sent her to him. Their most beautiful angel sent to look after the most hideous of men. Still, at least he was not one of those horrid beasts he had just been contemplating. Again he glared at nothing for allowing his mind to wander back to that distasteful subject. He counted himself incredibly lucky that Christine had not the power to read his thoughts, for surely she would not understand that he was truly better than all that ran through his ever changing mind.

He heard her hum faintly and stiffened, praying she would not wake up to find him like this. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks as the embarrassment of him being caught on the floor beside her whilst she was sleeping would most assuredly count against him. Thankfully, she simply readjusted slightly without waking. He let out a breath he had not fully realised he had been holding and sat up to observe her.

As always, she seemed the picture of innocent perfection in the incredibly limited light. Were it not for her unearthly glow, there would be no light whatsoever. Not that any of this mattered for Erik. He had always managed to see better in the dark. He imagined most would consider this yet another freak aspect of him, but he cared little for other's opinions at this moment. All he wanted to do was watch Christine sleep for an eternity or two. Her steady and rhythmic breathing soothed him and her faint smile brought a softness to him he had not realised he was lacking. She had done this in excess of late. She had made him understand what he had been missing when spending his life alone. Unfortunately for her, at least in her own opinion, he was more than satisfied to allow her to fill that hole rather than seek out another. Christine's happiness was worth more to him than anyone he had ever met, but perhaps that was part of the flaw. He was not meant to please her, he was simply meant to follow her guidance and find someone more real to satisfy. But, then, the issue that haunted him perpetually came forward once more. His face.

What woman would wish to spend their days with a man like him? Sure, he had talents, but the stigma of the mask would be ever present. No, he would never have any woman or companion for long. He was lucky to have the Daroga come by for his visits. He huffed a laugh at this as he realised he must never admit to thinking as much of the Persian. The game must continue and the persona must be kept up.

Looking back to the peaceful Christine, he realised he learned to accept that she would be the only one truly brave enough to stand his presence. Though for how long, he was uncertain. He worried what would happen should she ever see his face, or…he turned away the thoughts of the envelope Nadir had brought. He had vowed never to tell her about it. He would lose her forever if she knew.

Rising, he went back to his room, safe in the knowledge that Christine was still there and that he had not yet lost his dearest angel.

* * *

Christine awoke with confusion buzzing in her mind. She had been asleep. Groaning at her apparent weakness of the previous evening, she sat up on the sofa only to find her eyes firmly locked with the glimmering amber ones of Erik. He sat, his chair turned to face her, legs crossed, and fingers steepled before his thin lips.

'Did you sleep well?' He asked with no real emotion.

'Yes, though I wish I had not needed to. I hope you did not mind my commandeering your sofa for the night.' She looked at him warily, wondering what mood he was in and how this day was going to go.

He waved it off with a shrug before returning his full attentions to her, once again examining every intricate detail of her. She grew modest as she sensed his penetrating stare and hugged her arm, averting her gaze to the floor.

'Did _you_ sleep well?' She asked after a weighty pause.

'As well as I ever do.' He replied nonchalantly. He had actually slept better than most nights, but was not about to discuss the reason why at present; mostly because he was not entirely sure of it himself.

She nodded, hiding her frustration at their conversation going nowhere fast. 'So, I was thinking last night that perhaps you might consider giving the new prima donna singing lessons. That way you would not have to endure the horrid tortures of her lacking technique night after night.'

Erik frowned at this. 'No.' He answered flatly, not liking that she was still trying to have him be rid of her.

'Why not? You are an excellent teacher.' She pointed out with desperate hope in her eyes.

He leaned forward, squinting as if trying to physically see her reasoning. 'Her voice does not interest me as yours does. And besides,' he leaned back with distaste. 'I will not have you leaving me so soon.' He said, watching her brows pucker in distress.

'Erik, we have been through all of this-'

'No!' He shot up from his chair. ' _You_ have been over this. _I_ have simply sat and listened as you vaguely rambled on about the differences in our existence; differences I have never forgotten, mind you. I will not have you leave me. It is my life, and I shall spend it with whom I choose. Now, if you want to leave me because you do not enjoy my company, then I shall not stop you, but until such a time as you express your own desire to never see me again you shall remain. Is that clear?'

She sighed heavily, looking off at nothing before refocusing her eyes on only his general direction. 'You are a stubborn ass of a man.' She muttered.

'So I have been told.' He said in a quieter, yet still hard voice. 'Do you agree?'

'Your being told this? Yes. As to your earlier question,' she continued noting his frustrations rising. 'Do I really have a choice?' She looked up at him in curious defiance.

'Of course. You always have a choice, it simply depends upon whether or not you are willing to see it.' He answered.

'Wise words from the man who keeps turning all of his away.' She glared at nothing.

'Christine, I do not wish to argue with you.' He sighed to try and relieve the growing pressure her disobedience was causing.

'But that is what we do, is it not?' She asked, straightening her posture to show her continuation of her current state of mind. 'We both pretend to be sweet to lessen the pain of our differences.'

'Why are you acting like this this morning?' He asked tiredly.

'Because you still do not understand.' She shouted, rising to her gentle feet in so fluid a motion, Erik simply ignored her words to admire it.

'Christine, I do understand. I know what you find wrong about this, and I know that when you have me do something it is in the hopes that I will forget you, and perhaps it might have worked earlier in our acquaintance, but now…now I know you better.' His tone softened. 'Now I do not wish for you to leave me. I know you are not what most would consider real or even human, but I also know that no one else has preferred my company until you. You are the only woman to ever come close to caring about me and my bony ass.' He smirked as he referred to himself with those words which she and the Persian seemed to prefer. 'I shall not live forever, Christine, and I have no desire to spend what days I have being repeatedly shunned and hurt by the cruel natures of this world.'

'I never wanted this for you.' She admitted to the floor.

'I know, but I do.' He insisted, wishing to have the strength to pull her chin up so that her blue eyes could sooth his. 'It is only with you that I find purpose to anything, that I discover inspiration to continue on with my life. Christine, please, say you will stay.' He found himself pleading with her, but still she refused to look at him. 'Christine.' This time he did rest his index finger and thumb on her smoothly pointed chin, pulling ever so gently upwards so that he could see her beautiful face. Two silvery tear track shone in the light as she looked into his meltingly warm eyes.

'It is wrong, but I know that you will die if I leave.' She woefully acknowledged. Something in his plaintive stare hardened her, though. 'I shall make sure I stay this day, but beyond that, I shall not fight your wandering interests.' She told him firmly.

Breezing past him and out of his gasp, she gained some distance between them and turned to look at him expectantly.

'If you had wanted a weak angel, then I am afraid you shall have to be disappointed.' She told him, making him struggle to hide a smirk at her behaviour. 'What do you wish to do today?'

He graciously smiled downward, enjoying how childish she was, pretending to be grown up. 'I believe a trip to the Opera is in order as my presence has been somewhat cursory of late.' He told her, as she allowed him to return her gesture of remaining tall and steady. She nearly rolled her eyes before nodding in agreement and following him as he gathered up his cloak and headed out the door.

* * *

Christine seemed…distant as she and Erik made their way across the underground lake. Still, he could not find it within him to complain as she filled the rocky tunnels with her crystalline voice. She echoed her silvery spirit as she determinedly refused to sit in the boat and instead walked across the glossy ripples of the water. It was times like this when Erik felt he had forgotten to breathe. She walked with long, purposeful strides, appearing in her ethereal form to be more of a ghost, striding across the blackness of the dark lake. Her long curls cascaded down her back in flowing spirals of chestnut silk and her pale skin glowed elegantly. Her eyes, much to his disappointment remained set ahead of her, never once straying to grace him with their deep blue. She continued her song, assuredly making the sirens of old tales jealous of her enrapturing tones.

Watching her and hearing her voice surround him, Erik remembered all of the tales he had heard and read over the years of ghostly women of lakes and moors. He wondered if these apparitions were actually angels, though he doubted any other being could compare to his own seraphim. Surely no other angel could come close to resembling the true perfection that was his Christine.

When they made it to the dock, Erik paused to regard her a moment. She looked at him with confused scepticism for a moment before realising he was offering his hand to her. She hesitated for a moment before gingerly accepting. She tried not to notice the pain that flickered through his eyes at her reluctance. She let him guide her through the tunnels in silence.

Erik's heart sank as he felt her hand slip from his. He took another step before turning to look back at her, half-expecting her to be gone. The sight before him, however, made him even more concerned.

'Christine?' He asked, worry lacing his tone as he saw her cringe at nothing. 'Christine, are you all right?' He took a step towards her, reaching out feebly to do he knew not what in hopes of comfort.

'I am fine.' She waved off before bringing her hand to her pain creased brow.

'Christine-' He took another step forward, mere inches away from taking her arms to support her.

'I said I'm fine!' She snapped, batting at his hands and taking a step back.

'This has happened before.' He said rather than asked, remembering the day they had come up to watch the orchestra's concert. Though it was not quite so extreme, he knew she had felt odd before they had entered the Opera.

'It's nothing, Erik.' She said, breezing past him.

'No, it is not nothing.' He countered, catching her arm and making her stop. He did not have it in him to turn her round to face him. 'Tell me what is going on. Are you ill or hurt?' He pressed. 'Tell me!' He finally snapped after she had remained silent.

'You are going to be hurt.' She muttered.

'What?' He had never thought her one to deliver threats, especially to him.

'I know when harm with befall you. I get this…feeling before something bad happens to you.' She told him, not meeting his eyes until the very last.

'You get premonitions about me getting hurt?' He asked incredulously, eyebrow raised behind the mask.

'Call it what you will, but I just know, all right? Now can we please get out of these tunnels? They make me nervous.' She lied, tugging her arm free and continuing on their path up to the mirror entrance of the theatre above.

Erik followed her quietly as he felt an overwhelming wave of pity wash over him. How many times she must have experienced that pain over the years. He nearly snorted a laugh thinking on her wording of the ordeal. "Something bad happening," yes, he had experienced plenty of that in his life. In fact, that could be the best way to describe his existence. From the moment he was born and probably all the way to his eventual demise, he had been marked under the moniker of "something bad happening." Were it not that it was his Christine who had said it, he would have wondered who on earth knew him so well.

They continued to journey up and through the frostily tinted two way mirror into the vaguely lit room. It was still early in the Opera House as Madame Giry's walking stick could be heard faintly tapping out the rhythm for the ballerina's warm ups, yet no music was playing. The musicians had yet to arrive and the singers were probably only lazily getting out of bed in their own homes. It would be some time before they would have to endure the singer's horrid renditions of the most beautiful music the theatre had to offer.

Christine waved Erik forward to once more lead them through the secret passageways and halls just within the walls of his beloved home. He was stealthy and silent as he swiftly wove around the corners and bends long since familiar to his haunt, only briefly knocking on the walls to startle a few unsuspecting stage hands. He chuckled darkly under his breath as he watched through his many unseen holes to see the person jump slightly or freeze and look about anxiously.

He nearly released a bigger laugh when he practically felt Christine roll her eyes in the darkness behind him. As they travelled up to Box 5, he held out a hand to her as she climbed out of the column in the wall. His lips were twisted into a bemused smirk.

'The Opera Ghost is awake and kicking this morning.' He purred at her with a dark glee shining in his eyes as she took a graceful seat in one of the red velvet chairs and glowered up at him.

'Must you really do that?' She asked, already knowing the answer. 'You are going to give someone a heart attack one day, and then you shall not be laughing.' She told him firmly, casting her eyes out at the stage.

'Oh, won't I?' His voice appeared at her ear. She did not turn but flinched a glare at the gentle breath that stirred her hair. She knew he was too far away to have actually leaned in for such a close whisper.

'I do not appreciate your tricks at present, Erik.' She told him, feeling him behind her as he took a seat.

'And why is that?' He asked, his voice coming from the rail in front of her.

'Because they are rather childish and I am simply not in the mood. If you are so entertained, then why do I have to be here?' She returned, partially over her shoulder.

'It is because you are here that I am so entertained, my dear.' He told her, this time not throwing his voice.

'Why can you not pester Nadir for a change?' She asked after a pause, feeling the sad weight of his words.

'Because,' he sighed heavily. 'The old fart does not amuse me as much as you.' He told her, cocking his head as he looked at her shake hers.

'You are lucky he comes to visit you at all.' She told him.

Again, he sighed. 'Perhaps, but I think it more he wishes to be the first to know when I die so that he might begin celebrating immediately.' He smiled with onyx humour slithering through his tone.

'Nadir's right. You are an insufferable ass.' She muttered, shaking her head once more.

'And you, my dear, are the glorious angel who must dirty her hands with my damnable existence.' He said, leaning forward to whisper it at her ear, itching to play with her luscious curls.

'Erik, you know I did not mean it like that.' She said, actually turning round.

Her heart clenched in her throat as she looked back to find only the shadows of the box. Searching them frantically, panic quickly took her.

'Erik?' She asked of the darkness. 'Erik, where are you?' She searched more fervently, standing from her seat and scanning the box with her wide eyes. 'Please, Erik, I do not know where you are. Please,' she started to plead.

'Tut-tut, my dear. Begging does not become you.' His silky voice echoed whisperingly through the air about her.

'Erik, you know I cannot be too far from you. Please, just tell me where you are.' She explained, feeling her eyes well up and her fingers shake.

'Where would you like me to be?' He asked in his ghostly murmur.

'Please,' she held out her arms before her.

'You scare far too easily, my dear.' He purred just behind her.

She whirled round to see him in all of his looming, shadowy height looking at her with burning eyes. She hated her lip for quivering, but he reached forward and captured her chin gently with his index and thumb.

'Don't do that.' She muttered pitifully.

He sighed stiffly in what she assumed to be displeasure. 'How are you supposed to protect me if you are frightened to tears by my simplest of tricks?' He asked appraisingly.

She held his wrist, not daring to interrupt his touch. He felt a tear spill over to run down between her skin and his thumb.

'Tsk,' he sighed, cocking his head and softening his eyes. 'Christine, you need to decide whether you want me to see you or not.'

She shook her head, closing her eyes. 'It is not that. I know which one I want, but I also know which one you need.' She told him, looking up at him with eyes like the ocean. He felt himself being swept away in them whilst also held in place by her words.

He frowned at his conflicting feelings and let go of her only to snatch up her hand like some kind of prize. He held it aloft a moment before pulling her suddenly yet gently as they left the box.

'Come with me.' He told her as they swept out into the corridor behind the second tier boxes. Pressing on a slight protrusion in the wall, he ushered them into a newly opened passageway in the wall.

Christine wiped clear her eyes as she hurried through the darkness with him. She could feel his cloak billowing out behind him and occasionally brushing her grey skirts. Suddenly, he came to an abrupt stop, causing her to bump into him slightly. With a muffled apology, she looked at the ground, thankful for the lack of light to hide her blush in.

Erik stiffened when he felt her small form crash into his. He refrained from looking back, sensing her embarrassment from where he stood. He was certain those lovely roses were blooming in her heavenly pale cheeks.

He opened a small hatch, pointing towards it. 'Go through there.' He commanded sternly. He sighed tiredly when she looked at him questioningly.

Hesitantly, she went out and he watched her stop a few inches from the portal. She looked back at him with frantic uncertainty in her eyes as he followed, keeping to the shadows on the other side.

They were on the stage in a small, unseen alcove swathed in shadows. Before them twittered and fluttered the white tutus of the ballerinas as they rehearsed for the new production. Christine stood before him in confusion as he looked out at the young dancers.

'Go dance.' He told her with a nod of his head in their direction.

'Why?' She asked, still nervous.

'You say you like to watch them, so go join them.' He explained, growing frustrated by her needless fear. It had already been established that no one but him could see her, so it was not as if she would be caught.

Christine looked across the 21 metre span of the stage and glanced back at Erik. He nodded her forward as she approached the dancers, conveniently arranged more stage right where he was lurking. Finding an empty spot amongst their ranks, she joined in as they began again the rehearsal. Thankfully, Madame Giry was calling out the moves so she could join in without much difficulty.

Erik watched from his murky hiding spot as the tentative young flower of a girl he had just frightened with his absence bloomed amongst the other dancers. She was not built like one of them, and some of the moves were not so natural to her, but she still outshone each and every one of them. It was an acquired skill, he realised, that she had been working through for years. Years she had spent in his unknowing ignorance. As they continued, she broke farther and farther apart from the other girls in spirit and light. Her skills, when compared to the others, made her seem a professional. He wished Madame Giry could see her, for certainly the harsh mistress would find it as breath taking as he.

What truly stole all air from his lungs, however, was when she began to sing. He had heard her do this on the lake with the echo continuing as if praising her talent, but listening to it on the stage took his heart from him. She smiled a glimmering smile like dew on a morning rose, her voice almost painfully beautiful to his ears. He had to stop himself from walking out to her, hoping to claim that sound as his own. He wanted it; oh, how he wanted it. He had never heard something so effortlessly glorious as her in all his life.

When the dance finished, he wished nothing more than to clap as loudly as if in the finale of an opera. He could not give himself away so easily, however. He simply settled with his words, knowing that even they would fail him in describing to the beaming and gorgeous Christine how truly magnificent she was.

'My dear, you could make the Opera itself weep at your loveliness.' He praised, feeling his eyes sparkle at the sight of her and the memory of her voice still teasing his ears.

She looked down, modestly blushing. 'I doubt that, but thank you.' She told him, peering up through her lashes to see his stern smile.

'I would not exaggerate about you, my dear. I have truly never heard or seen something so wonderful in all my days. I only wish you were able to share it with more than just myself.' _Though I shall selfishly claim you quite happily._ He smiled down at her, once more softening.

'Erik,' she said, making his heart flutter unusually at her utterance. 'W-will you…that is, would you,' she paused looking for the strength to ask. 'Would you show me about the theatre?' She asked, bracing for rejection.

Erik looked at her curiously. 'Is there any part that you have not seen with me already?' He asked, raising an unseen eyebrow.

'No, it is simply that I would like to have you know I was there. A tour, if you will.' She explained.

Erik was puzzled by this request until he realised she had switched back to what she wanted. He smiled mischievously at this corruption he had wrought to her resolve. Offering his arm to her, he looked into her sapphire eyes which only gleaming more as he spoke. 'For you, Christine, anything.'


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you Mel2121 and Azhi D for following this story! I am ever amazed and grateful to the kindness of all of you readers. Feel free to leave a review for me!**

Erik and Christine ran about the Palais Garnier, soaking in all of the wonderful sights, sounds, and smells of the long-time home of the Opera Populaire. Erik happily recounted little adventures in building certain aspects of the theatre, setbacks, struggles, and unexpected successes throughout the magnificent structure. Christine knew every story, but hearing it through Erik once more made it somehow better. Everything was better with the rosy tint of memory, but with the soft gossamer blanket of Erik's tones sweeping through the air it created in her the desire to live it all over again. She had endured the worst of his tantrums, the harshest words he could pull from his broad vocabulary, and the blistering agonies of lonely defeat with him and yet it all washed away as he too began to see the Opera as she did.

It had not truly been her goal, but she could see the spark of inspiration and excitement brewing in the back of his amber eyes. He was starting to truly see the world again, not just live in it. He saw all of the splendour of his home and admire all of the work he and countless others had put into the stone and steal structure to make it appear unlike any other building in the world. Indeed, his Opera stood out among the wonders of the city, country, and planet. Nothing could compare to the graceful gilt angels that sprawled suggestively about the upper ring of the auditorium below the glittering chandelier, the majesty of the Grand Escalier that stretched its smooth marble steps in a great sweep to the floor, or the illustrious Grand Foyer. All of it seemed to come back to that old grandeur for him the more he showed it to her.

Finally coming to the auditorium once more, Erik noted the emptiness of the building. They had been wandering about for most of the day. Checking his pocket watch revealed it to be approaching sunset.

'My dear, I fear I have filled our entire day with my incessant ramblings.' He turned to her apologetically.

'Well I, for one, adored your ramblings.' She said, still holding his arm. He had noted that throughout their time together, she had drawn closer and closer to him until now their shoulders nearly brushed and her head, when leaned to look up, almost rested upon him. Each time this contact would threaten, he would smile, holding his breath in hopes that it would come true. It never did, however, but he was still too elated to have gotten the chance to show her all of what he had created. Through her, he again saw its beauty.

'Christine,' he said almost in a whisper. 'Would you care to accompany me to one more spot before we return to my home?'

She smiled as cheerily as ever before noticing the deep emotion in his eyes. 'Of course.' She answered, feeling a tightness take her chest.

Bringing her by the arm and sometimes hand given the narrow nature of some of his passageways, he lead her up and up and up until she wondered if they had finally reach the sky itself. Opening a door, Erik, ever the gentleman, assisted her up to stand beside him. She was concerned at first when her feet touched the ground and his arm snaked possessively about her waist until she realised where she was.

Directly before them was the great statue of Apollo, raising his golden lyre up to the Heavens. Christine gasped at the sheer size of the figure and also where she knew she was standing. Having been on the lower part of the roof before, her head swam to know she was higher up and behind the great greened dome.

Erik looked down at the prize he held against him. He knew she could not be injured as he could, but worry for her safety still encouraged his timid arms into motion, wrapping round her small form protectively. To his utter amazement, she partially returned the gesture, allowing her hands to come up to rest upon his arms but not to push them away. He felt his heartrate quicken at this, not having expected her to welcome his sudden and unannounced contact.

He watched her as her eyes caught something of the reason for his dragging her up here. She gasped audibly as she beheld the sunset to their right. The great fiery light spread across the canvas of the sky with bold streaks of red, orange, yellow, and purpling rose while the sun burned a golden amber. Christine now broke free as if in a trance from his surprisingly unresisting arms. She took only a single step forward, letting a few whispered words catch on the wind to drift past his ears.

'Oh, Erik, it's beautiful.' She muttered ever so softly.

He came up beside her, tearing his eyes away from the stunning atmospheric display to bask instead in her lovely form. The sunlight contrasted so perfectly with her deep blue eyes he thought himself dreaming. Her skin, once white as porcelain, now glowed more rosy golden in the setting sun. Her hair, blowing and dancing with the wind, wound its rich curls in the most delicious brown imaginable.

His hands yearned to touch her, to feel the smoothness of her skin, but he feared tainting her loveliness with his touch. Certainly a beauty such as this would instantly be ruined if touched by a monster such as himself. Her perfect face, her delicate hands, her slender form. No, she would be destroyed by him, for one touch would never be enough to satisfy.

'Christine,' he whispered into the wind, not expecting her to hear. He was taken aback further by her exquisiteness as she turned her eyes to him. He felt himself choke on any words that may have come as she turned away from the beauty of the sunset to look upon him instead. He felt tears run down his cheeks beneath his mask as she cocked her head questioningly at him. He held out his hand to her, relishing the feeling of her hand within his as he guided her over to Apollo. Placing his foot in just the right spot, he climbed up until he was able to look out almost through the lyre itself. Turning to look down, he waved Christine to follow. She did her best, copying his movements, but he eventually settled to return his helping hand to her. She took it and allowed him to assist her the rest of the way until she was standing beside him. He grabbed a hold beside her, letting his arm stretch behind her back like a safety rope.

She noticed his protective measure and smiled. Gently taking one hand, she reached down to place it upon his. She felt a tremor wrack through his arm before it finally relaxed. She turned her gaze to further watch the deepening colours of the sunset as it shone its last dying light across the silhouetted form of Paris. As the soft blues of night started to also deepen, stretching its blanket of rich darkness across the sky, they descended the statue. Upon landing back on the roof, she felt his golden gaze upon her. Turning, she surprised him in meeting it.

'Thank you for today, Erik. I truly enjoyed seeing the Opera like that again.'

'Christine, you make it all more wonderful with your presence.' He told her, continuing his deep gaze into her eyes.

She looked down at this.

'What is wrong?' He asked, instantly becoming concerned.

'I have to make us argue again.' She told him.

'What? Why?'

'Because I promised today, and now the day is done. I am sorry.' She continued her downward stare, not wanting to meet his eyes.

'Do not be sorry,' he told her, cupping her jaw in his hands whilst bending down to be at her eye level. 'Do not ever be sorry, Christine.' He told her. The longer he stared into her eyes, the more he realised how he was touching her and just how much he wanted to hold her to him and never let go. He questioned these feelings.

 _When did I start thinking of her as beautiful? When did I want to embrace her and make her happy? When did her tears become more than just a nuisance I did not know how to stop? When did she start to mean so much to me?_

These thoughts battled for supremacy in his mind as he stood before her. It was in this swirling mess of contemplations that he missed her hands coming up to meet his. He jumped back to reality as she removed his hands from her and pushed them back to hang heavily at his sides. She closed her eyes as she looked down.

'Nothing has changed, Erik.' She told him resignedly.

'I never expected it to.' He replied, noting her surprise. 'You have picked up a thing or two about stubbornness from being around me so much, I am afraid.' He tried on a grin, but it faded to softness quickly.

'Who's to say I was not always so?' She asked, failing just as quickly at her slyness.

'Christine, I cannot live without you.' He told her with sad resolve.

'You can't know that. I have been with you like this for such a short time.' She tried vainly to convince him, but he only shook his head.

'And in that time I have only come to realise I cannot imagine my life going forward without you there. You can captured me, Christine, and I do not wish for you to let go.'

She let a silence hang itself over their conversation. She ignored his pleading eyes and the tears which threatened to fall from her own. She knew he had given up when he had first seen her, but now he was resolutely deeming life unliveable unless she was assuredly and visibly by his side. She sent up a silent prayer in apology for failing to give him hope properly. Instead, he had become dependent upon her.

'We…should go inside.' She told him, heading towards the door back into the relative warmth and safety of the Opera below. She knew his shoulders fell along with his hopes as she turned away from him and his plea.

Slowly and silently they made their way back down into the Opera, deciding to go through the Box 5 exit. Erik felt his feet grow heavy as he watched his angel before him, afraid that if he took his eyes off her for even a second, she would find a way to vanish. He knew it rested upon him to do this, but there was always the fear that she had neglected to tell him some way for her to disappear.

They made their way farther and farther down until they stopped just on one of the catwalks above the stage. They heard a vague mumbling from the backstage area, only to see Buquet ranting and raving in hushed tones seemingly to himself. Christine instinctively joined Erik in the shadows when the man came fully into view.

'I'm telling you, it's unnatural!' Buquet said a bit too loudly to whomever he was talking to.

'Regardless of how natural it was, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.' Came the stern reply of Madame Giry. She stood firmly in the middle of the stage, most likely ensuring the drunken stage hand steered clear of her dancers.

'I shoved that knife right at him and nothing happened.' Buquet insisted. 'I'd thought he was just a silly myth until I saw him messing around by one of the dressing rooms. I jumped him, but I couldn't do any damage. Then I was thrown back like someone had pushed me, but I swear he didn't move.'

'That may be, and perhaps there truly is a ghost haunting the theatre, but do you not think that it was time you let it be? Searching him out will only bring tragedy.' Madame Giry insisted.

Buquet made some dismissive grunt before trudging up the stairs to the catwalk Erik and Christine hid upon. Below, Madame Giry called some other warning, but Buquet did not seem to be listening. He continued to grow closer and closer to Erik, making Christine whisper a suggestion for moving, but the Opera Ghost was not listening. He had prey to catch.

Buquet made it two more steps before he found his pathway blocked by the impressive form of the dreaded Phantom.

'You should heed her words, Buquet. I do not take kindly to those who do not know how to hold their tongue.' Erik spat in his venomous tone. Buquet stumbled back a step as Erik continued to advance, seeming to grow in height with every step. Erik felt fury begin to boil in his chest, rising up to his throat as he remembered the harm that had befallen his dear Christine the last time they had the misfortune of encountering this vile creature before him. He remembered her limp form, her pain, her selfless act to save him. All of it swirled and turned red in his mind as his eyes grew fierier by the instant.

'I knew you were real,' Buquet gasped, falling backwards and scooting a bit to gain some form of distance between himself and the shadowy figure before him.

'Yes, I am very real, and I shall bring about a very real end for you, Buquet, if you do not cease your senseless babbling.' Erik seethed, his hands finding themselves ready to lash out his Punjab Lasso at any moment. It would do him good to see the man swinging from above the stage for what he had done to his Christine. Yes, he would do it for her.

'Erik stop!' He ceased his motions when he suddenly heard her voice behind him. He had not realised it, but he had not noticed her being there since Buquet's arrival. He had forgotten about her. He gave one last bit of fire in his eyes toward the repulsive excuse of a man before receding to join his Christine.

No sooner had he turned his back, than he heard her once more call his name, this time not to get his attention, but in warning. He looked back just in time to see Buquet lunging at him with the same knife as he had used before in his hand. Being quick on his feet, Erik dodged the blow and following swiping strikes. He eyed his opponent, Lasso decidedly in his hands.

Erik released a dark laugh as the chief of the flies made a few more passes at him only to come stumbling out like a bull being taunted by a matador. Erik overplayed his hand, however, allowing for too little distance between himself and his prey, causing him to be knocked to the ground while Buquet stood over him. Erik was about to fight back when Christine hurried forward, standing between them and taking the hit that was meant to dig into his chest and stomach.

A cry of anguished rage erupted from his throat as he swept effortlessly round Buquet, securing the rope about the man's neck and tying one end off in the rigging for the scenery before kicking the struggling man over the rail to hear the resounding snap echo through the theatre.

Huffing at the adrenalin still coursing through him, he turned to see his Christine bleeding terribly on the catwalk. Fearfully hurrying to her side, he knelt behind her, resting her back on his legs. He felt tears pick his eyes as he looked at the horrid gash slicing down from her shoulder across to her right side. He hovered his hands over her uselessly as his breathing came in desperate rasping gasps.

'Christine! I'm sorry! I am so, so sorry! I should have been faster. Please forgive me!' He begged.

'E-rik,' she sputtered up at him. 'I'll –be- fi-ne.' She assured him with a weak smile. He shook his head as she continued to convulse in gasping pain. 'See,' she brought his hand over to her shoulder. 'I'm already healing.' She smiled at him as one of his tears fell onto her cheek. She reached up with a now blood stained hand to his own cheek, rubbing the smooth porcelain mask soothingly. 'So sweet.' She muttered with eyes that were quickly growing heavy.

'No, no! Christine!' He called gently shaking her and urging her to stay awake. She did at his insistence, smiling tiredly up at him as he continued to weep.

After a bit more of this, she managed to lift her head up slightly to observe her injury. She hummed thoughtfully as she surveyed the damage. 'I think this may take a while.' She observed as the cut was only just healing at her collarbone. 'If you wish to go home, I am afraid you shall have to-'

She never finished her thought as Erik instantly lifted her into his arms and began carrying her to Box 5. He held her gently so as not to hurt her, but firmly in warning to any foolish enough to consider parting her from him.

They said not a word as they made their way through the tunnels. Setting her down as gently as he could in the boat, he grabbed the stick and began shoving them through the water. He kept his stance resolute, but his eyes held every ounce of worry he possessed. Landing at the edge of the rocky shore the house was set upon, Erik did not hardly bother to tie off the boat, instead hurrying to bring Christine into the house. He kept getting flashes of the last time something like this had happened and prayed that not every instance where she felt he would be put in harm's way would end up like this. He felt a pit form in his stomach as he wondered what else she had saved him from all of the years before he had been able to see her.

'Erik, I-' She coughed a bit in his arms only to have him gently hush her. He carried her over to the sofa before sitting her down upon it. He took his place on the floor, kneeling to hold her hand, resting his forehead against it as he continued to cry, fighting back the tears as they unwantedly came.

'Christine, I am so sorry.' He wept into her fingers. 'I swear I will never allow you to come into harm again, I-I am just so sorry. I should have been faster, but I let my guard down. You see what you do to me? You make me feel safe, so I let down my defences, but it will be all right now. No one is ever going to hurt you again I swear it.' He looked into her watery and terrified eyes.

'Erik, I need to know,' she interjected before he could start again. 'Did you kill him? Did you kill Buquet?' She asked, trying vainly to keep a steadiness to her voice that distinctly did not wish to come.

'Hush, my dear, you need never worry about him again.' He assured, his eyes shining with desperate calm.

'Erik, please,' she gripped his hand back, leaning forward in hopes of making him see a bit of sense. 'Just tell me, is Buquet still alive?'

'That vermin got what he deserved.' He answered darkly, a glint coming to his normally bright orbs of amber that made a chill run up Christine's spine. 'They shall find him come morning and all shall know not to meddle in the affairs of the Phantom and his angel.' His dark persona quickly took root as his whole form seemed to become shadowy. One anguished cry from Christine, however, sent all of the gloom away and replaced it with fearful concern.

'No!' She wept, rolling over to face the back of the sofa. 'No, this is not what I wanted for you! This is never what I wanted for you.' She wept as Erik's panicked eyes frantically searched her for a physical cause of her obvious torment.

'Christine, please, please my angel.' He begged. 'Please do not cry. You need never cry, for I shall protect you. Christine, I will do anything and everything you ask of me. I will give you all that I am, if you only stop crying. Please.' He pulled lightly at her shoulder to try to get her to roll over to face him again, but she merely cringed from his touch.

'I did not want this for you.' She repeated more quietly. 'Never. I only ever wanted you to be happy, to know love, and to live. Just that, and yet I must now face you murdering. Tell me why you killed him.'

'For you, my darling angel. I did it to save you and keep you from coming to any more harm.' He told her, not understanding her distress.

She released another cry of torture, only this time rising from the sofa. He followed her, but she waved him back. 'Do not touch me!' She yelled at him, making him instantly shrink back. 'Do not ever do anything for me again! Do you understand? I want nothing from you. Nothing! This was not meant to happen; not ever and certainly not now! I do not want your care or your kindness! I do not want anything from you.' She shouted at him before turning her back.

'But Christine-'

'No! I do not want it because you were never supposed to need me this much. I have failed you, Erik! Do you not see that? I have failed and now you have killed and broken your promise to Nadir.'

Erik stopped at this. 'How do you know of that?' He asked. Fear and anger, that double headed snake that spits venom even the most forgiving hearts cannot survive, started to hiss its fangs at her from his mind. It started to consume his vision, making his limbs itch for things he did not want, but once the poison seeps in, it is hard to stop.

'Nadir mentioned it one evening many years ago. You promised him you would not kill anymore. No more senseless killing. No more murders!' She yelled the last.

'You know nothing of that promise! Do not pretend to know promises you were never privy to! He left me the exception of self-defence, and my reason for tonight's actions were one better than that. I killed Buquet to save you, to save us both! Do you not see that I do this for you? Do you not see how far I would go to keep you by my side? Christine, I-'

He stopped when she wobbled hard, almost falling to the floor. He rushed forward, catching her in his arms as she nearly fainted dead away.

'No, no,' she protested.

'Hush, Christine, hush. You are very weak, you need to rest.' He soothed, lifting her up and making his way to the Louis-Phillippe room.

'No, Erik. This is wrong. Your attachment to me is wrong.' She insisted somewhat blearily.

'Oh, Christine, my whole life has been spent doing the wrong things. I find it a little late for you to wish for me something right.' He told her, setting her softly down on the bed.

'I have failed you. I have failed. I have failed,' she repeated over and over again, tossing her head back and forth, tears streaming down into her long curls that splayed out across the pillow.

'Shhh, Christine, no, no my dear. You have not failed anyone. You were never meant to succeed. You never could have. I am not a soul that can be saved, but I can be helped. Please, let me show you all that I would do for you, all that I can achieve with you here with me. Please,' he begged of her, catching her cheek in his palm as she turned her head. He gasped when she pressed her skin harder into his than he had expected. His thumb slowly traced over her cheek, brushing away a tear with his feather light touch.

Christine looked into his earnestly meaningful eyes. He had intended every word he said, and he was not about to stop simply because of her somewhat loose reasoning. She admitted that it would be hard for him to comprehend how much this meant to her as he had little in the way of respect for duties and honour bound beliefs, but she simply had to get through to him that this was not how it was supposed to be. Her purpose was not to stay there to play the part of a human because that was all she could ever do; pretend.

Sitting up, she reached out to him and tentatively put her hands on his masked cheeks, cupping his jaw, and pulling his head to hers. While still amazed that he allowed her to do any of this, she placed her forehead against his and continued her stare into his now uncertain eyes.

'Erik,' she said slowly. 'I need you to let me go. No,' she started firmly as he opened his mouth to protest, trying to pull away from her. She stopped him and kept him where he was. 'You know I will still be here. I will never truly leave you, Erik. So please, just…let go.' He started to shake his head, closing his eyes, but she reached back to hold his head, smoothing his hair soothingly as she gently shushed him. 'Shhh, Erik, I know you are afraid to be alone, but I am telling you that you will never be alone. I am always here with you, even when you cannot see me. You have to have faith in me, Erik, please. Have a little faith and let go.' She told him in a calm yet earnest voice. 'Trust me.' She whispered.

'No one has ever stayed this long in my life, claiming to care about me. Nadir is different,' he assured, taking her intake in breath to mean she was about to argue. 'He stays out of thanks for what I did for him many years ago in Persia, and I do count him as a friend, but it is not the same. He does not smile at me as you do, nor does he wish to be in my presence. You are…special to me, Christine, and I do not want to see that end.' He told her, daring to flicker his eyes up to hers.

'Nothing is ending, Erik. I will still be here.' She promised again.

'It will not be the same.'

'No, it won't, but that is for the best. You deserve to have someone real as a companion, you truly do. Erik, I am nothing compared to the person I am sure is out there waiting and needing you just as much as you need them. I cannot find them for you. I cannot be them.' She explained.

He shyly rested his hands on her shoulders, leaning in a bit more as he shook his head. 'I do not believe they are, Christine. I do not deserve for there to be. No one could ever…not with me. Not after everything I have done in my life, not with…' He stopped, gesturing to his mask.

Christine seemed to think this over a moment. She pulled back from him slightly, not really focusing on him as he looked at her in a mixture of worry and continued sorrow.

'Erik,' she said slowly. 'If I could fix your face, make you look like everyone else, would you be happy?' She asked.

He stared at her a moment.

'If you could walk along the streets of Paris in the daytime with no mask, would you be happy? Would you find faith in life?' She asked, her eyes telling him she was completely serious in her words.

'I-I do not know. Perhaps.' he looked at her confusedly.

She nodded solemnly before looking back at him with the most sincerely sweet gaze he had ever seen from her. He stared at her, perplexed, for a moment until he noticed she seemed to be fading away.

'Christine?' He asked, growing frantic. 'Christine what is going on?'

'You no longer need me, if this is what will make you happy.' She explained in that calm tone he despised so well.

'No! I do not want this. Not if it means you will disappear. Christine, stop!' He cried, grabbing hold of her quickly disappearing arms. They faded from beneath his touch, but he took her hands instead, pulling them to his chest. 'I do not want it! Stop, please! Christine!'

'Hush, Erik, you do not know what you are saying. This is your chance to be free of the curse that has haunted you all your life. I can give you the life you always dreamed of. Just let me do this for you and you can be happy again.' She insisted, tears once more running down her face.

'No!' He yelled before leaning forward to rest his head in her lap. His legs shakily gave out as he slumped into the side of the bed, one hand still holding hers while the other looped possessively about her waist, pulling her to him. 'I would rather live my life as a monster than have you forever leave me. Please, Christine, stop this. I cannot bear it.' He wept into her like a child.

Christine looked down at the once tall, proud, and intimidating man crying his eyes out into her. She felt terrible for bringing him to this state. Slipping one hand free, she ran it through his dark, thick hair. A song started to erupt from her throat as she soothed him and comforted him. She sang no words, only melody, and stroked his hair and occasionally rubbed his back as he continued to cry into her.

'You are no monster, Erik. You never have been, and you never could be.' She whispered to him gently. His sobs caught into a hiccup at this, but she smoothed small circles into his back, feeling his vertebrae protruding further with each forceful breath.

Against her own will and wishes, her eyes began to feel heavy, and she knew he was close to being drained as well. He felt her sway slightly and sat up, looking at her tired smile. He straightened up some, trying to put some semblance to himself as he petted back his only slightly dishevelled hair and flattening his jacket.

'You need to rest.' He announced, still holding that worry in his eyes.

'So do you.' She said in a dreamy voice. He found his heart racing at this particular tone but he did not care at present to ask why. 'I will be here come morning, though I fear my dress needs a little repair.' She noted, too tired to fully care about modesty. She smiled as red began to creep up his neck.

In a flash he was out of the room and back again, holding a pair of folded black silk pyjamas. 'I do not have any clothes to suit you, but you may wear these in the meantime.' He offered them to her, averting his eyes from her form as he realised he had been thoughtlessly looking at her this whole time. Her bodice was torn from shoulder to opposite hip and the fabric now hung to reveal further the faint ribs running down her chest along with part of her mid-drift. Thankfully the fabric had not pulled away to show any more of her, for he surely would have felt even worse about not concealing her sooner. Indeed, it was only when she sat down that any skin was shown.

Christine blushed and muttered a soft thanks before he nodded stutteringly and turned to leave, only pausing at the door to bid her good night.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'd say we get to cool down now with the emotions, but that would be a bit of a lie. I apologise for my crueller nature. *Laughs manically***

Erik lay awake in his coffin, gazing at the ceiling as his mind raced through the events of the day. His eyes still felt raw and tired from the tears he had shed, but he could not calm himself enough to sleep. Images of her smile infiltrated his mind as he tried to sort out a few bits of his thoughts.

 _Why do I find her so beautiful all of a sudden?_ He asked of himself. _Certainly, she had always been lovely, but at present that seems to be all I can think about. Her eyes have been stunning since the moment I met her, but now I only want them to look upon me –cruse that that is. And her skin and hair have always appeared divine, but now I long to stroke them endlessly. To feel the curls of chestnut winding through my fingers and her hands around my neck in an embrace._

Realising that this was not helping with the intrusive images of her, he moved on to a different question.

 _Why do I feel hollow when she is not with me? I have lived all of my life without her, yet now it seems I can hardly breathe when she is gone. Even now I feel the pull at my limbs to carry me to her. Her smile, her laugh, God! Her voice calls to me even when she does not speak. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in my life. She calms me with her silvery tones and draws something out of me whenever she sings._

Finding this no more revealing than anything else, he moved on to his final question, the one that had seared itself in his mind and forced him from sleep.

 _What if this is love?_

Finding the mere mental utterance of this disturbing, he rose stiffly from his coffin bed and staggered out into the drawing room, eyeing the door to the other bedroom weightily. He walked over to it, hovering his hand on the doorknob a few lengthy moments before soundlessly opening it. He realised, upon seeing into the lightless room, that this was the second time thoughts of her had kept him from sleeping, and that he had been drawn to her in the night.

Walking as silently as the still air, he stood beside the bed, noting she was comfortably asleep and bundled up in the covers. She looked…human, laying there asleep. Her hair was strewn about her like a chocolate halo on the white pillow and the black silk of his lent pyjamas peaked out in its soft collar at her neck. He felt his heart skitter as he realised she was wearing his clothes. He had known she had little other option, but seeing it made all the difference.

Taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, he watched her a few more moments. Somehow, being here with her had taken away all of his questions. Just having her near had calmed his mind enough to feel as though his tired eyes and body could finally rest. Still, he remained a few minutes more, sighing gently when she turned to unknowingly face him. Her face at peace was certainly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Heaven had truly sent its most gorgeous angel to watch of earth's most hideous man. He felt a twinge of pity for her over such irony. Unfortunately, another question entered his mind undesirably and brought that pit in his stomach sinking deeper and deeper.

 _What had she been like when she was alive as a human?_

He cringed away from it as well as the sight of her innocent face. Quiet as always, he slipped from her room and back into the darkness of his own to wallow in self-loathing. He hated not telling her all he knew about her previous life, but he simply could not risk losing her to it. If she knew what had happened, she would surely turn away from him. She would shun him as the rest of humanity had done countless times before, only this time he knew he would sooner perish. He would waste away in silent torment and suffering as he knew he deserved if she turned away. He felt no obligation for her to like him or choose his presence, but certainly he could not bear the sight of her leaving him out of the disgust she would assuredly feel.

It was with these thoughts that he slipped off to sleep. He tried his hardest to make the thoughts go away, but they persisted, twisting and warping in his dream filled mind. These memories, coupled with much of his own dark past shouted and torment him. He could not escape it all and felt like he was drowning. The claws of betrayal, hurt, and utter torture dug deeply into his scarred and hideous skin. Voices of ones he had known screeched in his oversensitive ears, grating at his mind. Old injuries poured forth like new. All hurt swirled and consumed him in one giant mass that he could not see his way out of.

Old comfort taunted him like a light at the end of a deep and inescapable well. He fought and cried and cut himself to be free of it, but he could not. The walls only grew higher each time he struggled, yet remaining in the pit was unbearable. He heard the promise of the angel's voice he so longed to hear calling to him, but he could not quite reach the pale hand she stretched down to him. It was all so dark he grew frightened that it would stain her. He would not allow harm to come to her simply from trying to save a wretch like him. He deserved it. He needed each biting word to drag him down into the pits of Hell where he belonged. It was his destiny. He had denied himself too long the pull of the darkness. He knew there was no escape; that life had been a lie all this time. There was only pain. There was only suffering. There was only eternal death in Hell for him.

* * *

Christine awoke from her dreamless slumber to hear shouting. No, not shouting, screaming! Hurrying from the bed and nearly tripping over the long silken pants she was wearing, she fumbled her way towards the sound of the cries which threaten to break her heart. Grabbing a candle stick on the way by, she fluttered into the drawing room to find it empty and hears another anguish cry of pure torture coming from the door she has never dared open or walk through. Erik's bedroom.

She pauses just an instant outside, hand ready to knock. She has heard him cry out in the night before, but generally she could sing through the door to get him to calm down slightly. This, however…this was different. If she did not know any better she would say someone was horribly abusing him.

Cursing her hesitation, she rushed in.

It was unimaginably dark with draperies lining the walls in shadowy patterns of blacks, greys, and all manner of gloomy atmosphere. The furniture, what there was of it, was of a similarly themed darkened wood. Everything in the room appeared to aid the purpose of making the space as dark as possible.

Shining her lone candle and casting light enough for her to see adequately, she spied motion coming from a black wooden box in the left corner of the room. Coming over to it, calling out to the man she hoped to be inside, she froze. It was a coffin, and in it lay Erik.

* * *

Erik fought hard against the oozing blackness that threatened to consume his light and his hope of escape. He heard his angel's cries calling him up and up into the light of he hoped only to be Heaven and reached for her gently extended hand. He longed to feel her fingers against his palm and to wrap his long, slender fingers around her hand. How he would bask in the warmth of her smile and the cooling grace of her eyes. Finally he grasped the lifeline he hoped her touch to be and was instantly pulled from his darkness. Only, it was a new form of darkness he found himself emerging into.

* * *

Christine watched, speechless, as Erik shot up in his "bed". He gasped raggedly at the air for a moment before squinting confusedly at the light of her candle. It seemed almost too bright for him, yet his face showed confused disappointment.

'Christine?' He asked, turning to her. This was when he froze, his features paralysed at the sight of her. His breath ceased in him as he beheld her.

Her eyes were wide with shock as she looked him dead in the eye. He did not need to know all of the emotions that were playing out through her clearly racing yet stagnant mind as she stared at him, her lips parted just ever so slightly. Her eyes did not waver or flicker to anywhere but his face, and he knew, God, how he knew that he was not wearing his mask.

As they sat there a few slow and lengthy heartbeats, he felt a rage and embarrassment and fear and pain retch up inside of him. With a growl, roar, and cry all mixed together, he flew from his coffin and loomed above her. His eyes held every emotion he could not begin to name as he stared down at her frozen form kneeling beside what he called a bed.

'Now you have seen.' He somehow half-yelled, half-whispered at her disdainfully. 'Now you know the monster who you have taken care of all these years! Now you know the secret I unknowingly hid from you!' He told her darkly, waiting for her to react. 'Go ahead and scream!' He bellowed at her, making her lean back only minimally. With a growl, he bent forward and pulled her up forcefully by the arms, shaking her before his flaming eyes. 'Scream, damn you! Scream and run from me!' He yelled before tossing her roughly to the floor as if she were a newspaper he had tired of reading.

She hit the floor with a startled yelp, but remain where she lay, not moving.

'All these years you thought you could save your Erik! Well, now you know that God does not wish for me to be saved! He never wished for me at all! No one did!' He thundered, pacing beside her prone form, clenching and unclenching his fists. He paused to regard her a moment. 'Why do you not scream?!'

'Because you are my Erik.' Came the whimpering reply.

He stopped mid-step at this. His head swivelled to look down at her as something within him snapped. ' _Your_ Erik?' He asked poisonously. 'You think that is what I am? You think that there was ever any of _your_ Erik here?' He laughed with a crazed gleam in his eye.

Lifting her up once more before him, he pulled at her wrists until her hands were upon his face. 'No, do not look away, _my dear_ ,' he spat the name as she cringed away from him. 'Do not deny yourself the sight so many payed to see. Feel me, for I am Erik! This is who I am!' He continued, driving her hands into his hollow cheeks, letting her finger tips feel the paper thin roughness of his skin. His nose was non-existent with only a black hole where one should have been. His eyes glared out from their sunken sockets with swirling amber fire. His lips, so very thin, sneered at her as she gazed upon him with tears in her eyes.

'This is who I have always been, my dear.' He continued, dropping her hands and watching her crumple to heap at his feet. 'But oh! Your Erik had you fooled, did he not? With his grand words and his gentle touch and his softer muttering and promises! I can see why you fell so easily into the illusion of your Erik being good. He played the game exceedingly well, my dear.' He once more remained to tower over her as she shook upon the floor.

She slowly looked up to him, listening to his ragged breathing as he stood above her. Eventually her deep blue eyes met his, though hers were filled with tears.

'It was never a game.' She told him with little quaver in her voice.

'Get out.' He seethed, pointing sharply to his door. When she continued to remain upon the floor, he snatched up her hand and shoved her towards it. 'I said get out!' He roared. 'Go now and leave me!' He yelled, watching her scramble to her feet in a sudden awakening of senses and hurry from the room. He could not think until he heard the front door slam shut. It was only upon this resonating sound that he allowed the fear to strike and the sorrow to seep in.

Crumpling to his knees, he let the weight of the world rest upon him. He found himself desperately gasping for breath as he found he could not manage his lungs properly. His hands curled in slightly as they lay forlornly on the floor by his knees and his head bowed forward until his sharp chin hit the bones of his chest. He took in a broken gasp with his coming sob when a sharp cry pierced the air and his ears.

Without a second thought, he rushed to his feet and practically flew to the front door, following the scream. He wrenched the door open so hard it nearly broke the hidden hinges. He stared out into the gloomy darkness of the tunnel surrounding the lake until his sight caught the slight tremor of movement at the water's edge. His fear shifted painfully in him as he heard further cries of obvious pain echo and ring through the air about him. Hurrying to the small being, shuddering and shaking, he found once more his knees giving out from beneath him. He let himself fall, not caring how hard his impact upon the solid and unforgiving rock would be. His hand shook terribly as he hovered them over the curled ball he knew to be his angel.

'It hurts, it hurts!' She cried between sobs of clearly indescribable pain.

'Where?!' Erik begged of her, not knowing how she could have managed to hurt herself.

'Everywhere! Everything hurts!' She wailed, shutting her eyes tightly to the agony.

Erik did not know what to do and he could not go and fetch any help as not only could no one see her, but she could not be too far from him. This final thought struck him hard. He looked between herself and the house, noting she was a good 15 meters at the least from his room. A broken cry sounded in his mind as he realised this was his fault. His body shook with the weight of the yelp that never came out. Looking back to her, still suffering the agonies of his ignorance, he let a quivering hand gently brush her partially exposed arm.

This motion brought about a sudden change in her as her eyes flew open and she gasped as if she had just been released from drowning. He instantly snapped his hand back from her at this, worried he had harmed her more. She let out another whimper of pain as she reached up and retrieved his hand.

He looked at her confusedly as she rubbed it possessively before he was nearly knocked over by her climbing into his unsuspecting arms. She scrabbled up to him, tightly wrapping her arms about his neck and burying her face into the dip of his neck and shoulder. Her legs she tucked up as closely she as could whilst sitting like a child on his lap as he kneeled on the ground.

'Please, please hold me!' She begged desperately.

Erik could not think; he was so confused and shocked by this sudden change.

'Please, Erik! Make the pain stop!' She pleaded into him, her tears dampening his skin and staining his nightshirt.

Following her urgent instructions, he lightly draped his arms across her lower back and shoulder blades. She seemed to instantly calm at this, almost sighing in bliss.

Erik continued to sit in a daze as she nuzzled farther into his embrace. His senses seemed to return as he looked down at the literal angel resting in his arms. He instinctively grew fearful, though he knew not what of, and tried to push her away, only resulting in her heart wrenching sobs for him to not let her go.

'Please, just hold me. I need you.' She begged again.

He felt his breath cease somehow further when he heard these words. Never in his whole life had he truly thought a woman of any kind would say such a thing to him. Of course, he had never dared to hope that he would one day hold someone or be held willingly, and yet here she was. She was actually begging him to hold her.

Obliging, he pulled her in tighter to him, pacifying some of her tears as he gently soothed her back just a bit. A part of him was terrified that this was all a dream and that he would wake up to find her gone or laying in the bed. Perhaps he had fallen asleep when he had gone in to see her and he was now uncomfortably sitting in the chair beside the bed. Or maybe it was that he had drifted off and dreamt up visiting her.

His head swam with all of these mind-numbing thoughts until a particularly rasping sob wracked through her in his arms. Scooping her up, he stood from the cold ground that was starting to seep dangerously into his joins and carried her into the house.

Setting her down on the sofa, he went over to the fireplace to add a bit of warmth and comfort to the darkened room. He was going to go into her room to fetch a blanket when he heard sniffled whimpering coming from behind. He was back at her side in an instant, looking up into her childlike eyes before she immediately flung her arms back round his neck and almost slid off the sofa to curl up against him once more. Catching her back in his arms, he took a seat on the welcomingly soft cushions with her nuzzling into his chest, legs coiled as tightly as they would come, and arms wrapped round him.

Finding a blanket on one of the arms of the sofa, he draped it over her and himself, tucking it in as she smiled faintly from her burrow at his curving shoulder and collarbone. Bravely, he let his hand come to rest at her head, stroking her curls delicately as he dared lean his face into them. She smelled of roses and what he could only describe as starlight.

'You are so beautiful.'

He did not realise he had said it out loud until he met her wondering gaze.

'Y-you think I am beautiful?' She asked in disbelief.

'Christine, you are gorgeous.' He told her, deciding it best to dive right in. Her eyes seemed to melt into wells of purest sapphire as her lips spread into the sweetest smile. He felt her looking upon him and remembered that his mask still lay in his bedroom. Turning his head sharply to the side, he tried to spare her the sight of his hideousness.

'Forgive me, my angel, for making you endure such a sight as this. You deserve far better than this corpse of a man.' He uttered with obvious pain in his voice. He expected to feel her leaving his arms, to hear her gasp in shock as she realised what she had clung to. All this he had anticipated. What he had not predicted feeling was her gently insistent hand pulling his face back to hers. He knew his eyes must have been as wide as saucers when he came back to look at her.

'Erik, why do you call yourself such horrible things? You are the handsomest man in the whole world.' She told him as if it were the most obvious of things.

He heard some choking noise fill the silence her words had wrought, but could not think to know that it was he who had made them before burying his face in her hair with loud cries of blissful disbelief. He had never thought…never dreamed that…none of this could be real.

He clung to her as she had him, simply weeping into her. He vaguely felt her hand come up to pull his head somehow closer to her, rubbing between his shoulder blades with the other. He faintly heard her calming shushes and words of reassurance.

When at last he had managed to relax some, he tearfully asked her the question that had unknowingly been tugging at his mind since she had climbed into his arms.

'How can you say something like that? Why are you not afraid of me?'

In reply, she nestled her cheek against his, placing her lips tantalisingly close to his ear. 'Because you are my Erik.' She whispered to him, forcing him to close his eyes tightly to keep from crying all over again.

He watched her pull back, looking at him with concern brewing in her eyes. 'It was not a game, was it?' She asked, clearly bracing for it to have all been for nothing.

'No, Christine,' he laughed through watery eyes. 'It was not. But even if it were, I would never cease playing it if it meant you would stay here like this.' He tugged her back into his embrace, enveloping her in his long arms and tucking his face into the top of her head. His face, which she gazed upon without aversion. His face which had never scared her. His face which she found the grace within her to smile upon.

'I am sorry I hurt you so, Christine. I swear it shall never happen again. I will forever keep you by my side.' He promised solemnly.

'And I shall forever remain with you, Erik.' She cooed back, letting her happiness leek out through her closed eyes to run between his neck and her cheek.

He could not help himself as he retreat to stare down at her. 'Does that mean you will stay? You will not try to force me to forget you?' He asked in wondering, suspecting disbelief.

She reached up to put a soft hand on his cheek, watching him sigh as he leaned into it while involuntarily tremoring at the unusualness of the contact. When their eyes met again, all sadness or pity had washed from hers. 'I am here.' She said simply, but he knew that was more than enough. He had his angel by his side for as long as he wished. He could have her for the rest of his life.

He let out a gasping laugh as her shook her head at his speechless joy and embraced him. It was during the exploration of his warm happiness that he realised he had an answer to one of his earlier question. In fact, this one answered all of them in one fell swoop.

 _Yes._

'Christine,' he said, begrudgingly breaking their hold upon each other for a moment. 'Would you…' He trailed off as he tried to find the perfect words. Coming up short, he reached round her to slip something off his little finger. He looked at it over her a moment before finally discovering his words. 'Say you will stay, continue to guide and remain by me. Just promise to help me and I will be happy forever.' He offered her the small golden band simply affixed with an onyx oval.

She looked between the ring and him in surprise. 'Erik, you are sure?' she asked.

He smiled sweetly at her doubt of his resolve. 'I am surer of this than of anything else in my whole life, my dear.' He told her with a gentility to his tone that softened her instantly.

She felt a feeling of greyness pass over her as she allowed him to slip the ring over her finger. It was almost as though something like this had happened to her before, but she could not remember such an occasion, and certainly it had never been with Erik. Shaking her head clear of it, she focused instead upon her brightly beaming friend. Without his mask, he seemed freer in his expressions, though the smile affected his features differently than most people. Still, it made her unspeakably happy. Perhaps she had acted rashly or foolishly to give in, but at this moment, she could think of nothing better for him than giving him his wish. He had been truthful when he said before that he would die without her. Staying decidedly would keep him happy. And maybe one day he would come across a wonderful being who would make him feel whole. She found she could live with this, knowing she had been graced with his affectionate care for at least a little while. It would satisfy her easily.


	11. Chapter 11

Erik sat on the sofa, happily snuggling his face into her hair. She was so warm against him as she continued to rest curled up in his arms. His soft smile had yet to fade as she nuzzled him gently. He felt a tear run down his cheek to splash into her silken tresses. He squeezed her just slightly, showing that he wanted her there. She had made the promise as if he would be the one to regret it. She was more caring than anyone he had ever met before. She was a true angel.

A knock at the front door interrupted them, making both jump. Erik tightened his hold around her protectively, already having his arms seem like great shielding wings of black. He scowled at the door and whoever had chosen to disturb them. He realised then, by the stiffness that had settled over him that they had been resting like this for several hours, probably casting them into the early time of the morning.

Christine looked up at Erik questioningly, growing slightly concerned when she heard a deep growl emanate from his chest. Bringing her hand up to his cheek, her contact won her his gaze instantly. He was still surprised by her willingness to touch him, but it quickly faded to pure happiness at her lack of fear towards his features.

Taking a moment to enjoy the bliss that came from her beautiful eyes, he slipped his hands to cradle her in his arms. He did not wish to part with her for a second if he could help it. Rising from the couch, he felt himself sigh as she happily wove her arms round his neck and buried her face a bit into him. Glaring at the door and the now insistent knocking that came from it, he harshly hit the mechanism in the wall to make the entrance open.

Sternly staring at the figure who stood upon his doorstep, decidedly uninvited, he heard words rush forward.

'Allah, Erik! Do you have any idea what you have-' Nadir stopped dead in his tracks as he beheld the sight before him. His dark brown eyes were wide and staring. He flicked his eyes up to Erik's as if hoping for explanation, but the man only increased his glare.

'You have seen me before, Daroga. I hardly think this display is necessary.' Erik growled deeply.

Once more the Persians eyes flew from Erik's to a spot just below the man's shoulder. Catching on a bit, Erik looked down at his treasured charge and then back to his intrusive friend.

'I-is this…?' Nadir asked weakly, pointing to the being in his generally masked companion's arms.

Erik felt Christine tense and looked down to see her eyes wide and almost fearful. 'You can see her?' He asked, glancing up at the still dumbfounded Persian. He nodded as she drew farther into the protective embrace of her Erik. She remained a moment, seemingly thinking over something very intently before looking up into the amber eyes she knew so well.

'The ring.' She offered with shock. It was a physical piece of evidence to the promise she had made him, and also the only thing he had given her for good. He had lent her the pyjamas she now felt herself flushing from still wearing, but the ring was hers forever now.

Squirming a bit, she let Erik reluctantly release her to stand beside him. She kept very close, holding his arm defensively to her.

'Good morning, Monsieur Khan, my name is Christine.' She told the Persian with obvious trepidation, but also a good bit of happiness. She had watched Erik and Nadir over the years and had long decided the Daroga a healthy ally to Erik's more stubborn nature. She extended her hand to the man. After a pause, he took it in his olive skinned hand and gently kissed her knuckles. Erik inhaled sharply and wrapped his arm about her waist possessively, though only keeping his touch just on the surface of her clothes.

'A pleasure to finally meet you, Mademoiselle. Erik has told me a lot about you.' He eyed his friend carefully, recognising easily the look of death he was now receiving.

She blushed slightly, causing Erik to tense beside her. 'Please, call me Christine.' She urged, giving her dark shadow of a companion a gentle squeeze on his arm; telling him to relax.

'Only if you shall return the favour.' Nadir smiled happily at the young woman.

Being able to withstand no more of this, Erik stepped forward slightly. 'Yes, yes, we are all acquainted. Perhaps now we can get on with the purpose of your visit so that you may once more _leave_.' He put extra emphasis on the word.

'Erik,' Christine chided softly, catching his quickly enflaming gaze. 'You needn't be rude.' Turning to Nadir she beckoned him forward. 'Please come in, Nadir. I will make you some tea.'

Nadir smiled proudly as he passed Erik. 'It would seem that you have finally found someone who can offer a bit of civility to your life, my friend.' He praised, joyfully ignoring the daggers that were rapidly flying from Erik's gaze.

Taking their normal seats, the men stared at each other in silence for a few moments. From the kitchen, Christine held her breath as she awaited the sounds of battle, physical or otherwise. She knew she had aggravated Erik by her quick acceptance of Nadir's arrival, but he was being ridiculously possessive of her at the moment. She had made a promise, and she stood by it, but that did not mean she wanted him to cast away his only friend just to spend time with her. Besides, she had started to feel the impropriety of their positioning on the sofa.

Coming into the drawing room again was like being hit in the face with a book as the tension of the room seemed to consume everyone in it.

'So,' she tried to break the silence that only forebode death. 'What _did_ you come here to discuss, Nadir?' She asked, placing the tea things on the table between the men and coming to stand beside Erik's chair. It was less to comfort him, and more to ensure he would not try to lunge forward to attack the Persian.

Nadir's brow darkened at this. 'I came to ask Erik what in the Hell he was thinking –pardon my language, Christine.' He jumped to realise she was present.

'Think nothing of it. I have heard far worst from both of you.' She waved him off, making Erik flush slightly as he truly considered some of the things he had said over the years in her unknown presence. He caught her eye only to receive a sly grin.

Nadir watched amusedly at this exchange. He was amazed to discover Erik had finally found someone who could make him embarrassed or guilty or even rein him in a bit. Allah knew the man needed it. For too long, Erik had cast himself into the shadows, or put himself on a pedestal above humanity. And though the human race was far from perfect, so was Erik. He liked to think himself better, but when it came right down to it, Erik could be just as vicious as anyone else.

'Just tell us why you are here.' Erik sighed in frustration.

'I came to the theatre this morning.' Nadir said with dull sternness written in his face and voice.

'So?' Erik was growing tired of the trivialities of the Daroga's current company.

Nadir only looked at him pointedly. Christine seemed lost too until this moment. She gasped, drawing Erik's panicking eyes to her instantly. She shook her head as her hands covered her mouth.

'You knew about this, Christine?' Nadir asked, growing warry of the girl.

'He did it to protect me. I was injured and could not…' She trailed off as the confusion in Nadir's eye clouded his accusing stare.

'Oh, that.' Erik said dryly, but still concerned over his angel's wellbeing.

' _Oh, that_?!' Nadir yelled, leaning forward at this. 'Erik, you murdered a man and left him hanging above the stage!'

'He hurt Christine!' Erik protested. 'And besides that, I could not have him running about the theatre looking for me. He might have poked his head into the wrong shadow. He was destined for a quick demise, I assure you.' He said in his general tone of calm and indifference.

Nadir leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tightly closed his eyes. 'Erik, we have discussed this.'

'Have we?' Erik challenged.

'You made a promise.' The Daroga lamented.

'And I have kept it. It was in self-defence and in protection of Christine, I do believe I am well within my rights. I do not appreciate your holding that over my head, nor do I approve of your doubting my motives.' He rose in one graceful motion and turned immediately to disappear into his room.

'Erik!' Nadir called after him just before the door was shut.

'Stay if you wish, Daroga, but I have nothing more to say to you.' He bit over his shoulder. The door slammed upon the conversation as a literal end to his participation in any social interaction for the remainder of Nadir's visit.

Christine looked back to the seemingly deflated Persian. Walking slowly over to him, she took a seat in Erik's chair.

'Forgive me, Christine, I shall not hinder your day with my prolonged company.' He told her, looking about to stand up.

'No, please, stay. I have no one talk to besides Erik.' She plead, reaching out to keep him where he was.

'Why was it I could not see you before?' Nadir asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

She held up her hand to him, displaying the ring. 'He gave me something. I had never before been given a gift of anything material. I also promised to stay with him.'

The Daroga raised his eyebrows at this. 'Had you planned to leave?'

'Not exactly. You see, I am only visible to him so long as he desperately needs me. I am meant to look after him, and had initially intended to show him the wonders around him, but he instead latched onto me.'

'Ah, I see. You wished to distract him so that he would fall for something more real.' Nadir nodded. She smiled wistfully at this. 'Do you regret the way things have turned out?' He asked, noting the way Erik had been holding her and her own reassuring contact.

'Not really. It was not the way I had planned, but I honestly cannot begrudge it. You have no idea what it is like to spend twenty years watching over someone without them even knowing you are there.'

'Oh, don't I?' Nadir asked laughingly. She shared in his mirth at this.

'Indeed. I must admit that I could not have done it all without you. You saved him far more times than I ever could.' She looked down somewhat dejectedly.

'And yet it is your company he prefers.' He watched her knowingly. She flickered a smile, though not changing her downcast countenance.

'Nadir, I know you hardly know me, but I have been watching you and Erik for years. Do you…think I have made a mistake in promising to stay? Is it truly good for him, or am I simply acting selfishly?'

Once more his eyebrows raised at this. 'Do you feel it is selfish?'

Christine looked down and blushed, confirming a suspicion Nadir had almost thought completely outrageous. When she looked back up, she saw the unmistakable surprise in his face.

'Do not misunderstand, Nadir, I really care for Erik. I mean, I have watched his daily life for two decades. Of course I would wish to remain in his eye, but I worry that…I am overreaching my boundaries.' She looked down with obvious sadness. 'I am an angel. I do not eat, I rarely sleep, and I do not age. I have no reflection and until recently I could not be seen or heard by others. I am not human.' She explained.

Nadir looked at her earnestly, he leaned forward, boldly taking her hand in his. 'Christine, I do not pretend to be an authority on any of this, but I do know a thing or two about Erik. He becomes very attached to things he finds beautiful, but never to my knowledge has this occurred in the case of a person. Especially when you seem so…accepting of him.' He told her and she knew it was true. She had been there for those nights when he cursed himself endlessly, breaking mirrors with his bare fists, and drinking himself to sleep. She cringed away from those memories of when he would lay in a morphine fuelled daze. 'I do not say that you are right or wrong, but simply ask that you take care and watch what you say around him. He can be temperamental, as I am sure you are aware.' He smiled as she rolled her eyes while nodding in knowing agreement.

'I will always take care of him, Nadir. That I can most certainly promise.' She assured him.

He smiled broadly as he looked at her. He could see Erik's attraction, even if she did not fully realise it yet. Yes, Erik held quite a gem.

* * *

Christine spent the next hour happily chatting with Nadir about seemingly trivial things. They could only occasionally dip back into the subject of their mutual charge, but on the whole they spoke of how the world was doing in its turning and how all of the little specks called life were dealing with this rotation.

Eventually Nadir insisted that he must depart. Christine escorted him to the door with the assurance that she would do her best to keep Erik out of harm's way for a bit, and find something for him to do below the Opera for the time being. They knew Erik would not respond well to this limitation as he still saw he had done nothing wrong, so Christine swore to do her best to ensure the Daroga's heart would be without jolts of worry for a day or two.

Once the front door was closed, she turned purposefully towards Erik's current refuge. Knocking on the door, she tried to use her sweetest tone.

'Erik, are you done pouting?' She asked, pressing up against the wood, hand hovering over the doorknob in anticipation of her allowance in.

'Depends, are you and Nadir done chattering?' Came the scornful reply.

'Do not play games with me, Erik. I know you could hear the front door.' She told him somewhat sternly.

There was a pause, and then she heard a click come from the door. Trying the handle, she found it had been unlocked. Poking her head in slowly, she found amid the reigning darkness that pervaded the room the unmistakably tall, lean, and slightly tensed silhouette.

'Erik, why are you always so unkind to Nadir? He only means to help you.' She started, opening the door a little wider as she stepped in. She watched the shadows battle the incoming light as it flooded the dark room.

'Am I allowed to talk now, or are you simply going to carry on a conversation about me behind my back again?' He asked over his shoulder. Christine froze at this, feeling a bit of guilt wash over her. 'Or was I not able to hear that?' He continued, a bitterness coming to his usually smooth tone.

'Erik, no one said you could not have joined us.' She told him in a gentler voice.

'No, but I did not expect you to have him stay.' He shot back, showing a bit of his pain. She remained silent in surprise. 'But clearly you like him better. Perhaps you wish you were his guardian angel. God knows he needs one when he has to spend so much of his time looking after me.'

Christine's shoulders drooped as she felt word after word bite into her sharply. 'Erik, you know I would never leave you.'

'No, because you can't! You do not have a choice but to remain with me. I…I am sorry, Christine. I am sorry I am not better; that you do not know whether to stay or not. If I were a handsomer, kinder man you would want to stay, but I am not.' His back rounded somehow more as the words started to catch in his throat.

'No, no Erik,' she cooed, sliding her hand up his back to reach his shoulder. 'I am sorry. I should not make you cry so, oh, please forgive me.' She said, pulling him round to face her as she held his cheeks in her gentle hands. 'Erik,' she sought out his eyes, bringing her face closer to his. 'I want you to listen, and listen well.' He finally looked up at her, complete despair written in his soft amber eyes. 'There is no one I would rather be with than you.' She told him earnestly. She then proceeded to pull him down so that he head was resting on her shoulder while her arms held him soothingly. Slowly, his own curled round her as he relished the feeling of her warm, soft skin against his own cheek, of the smell of her hair as it curled and danced down her back, of the sound of her sweet breath running through her throat at his ear, and of the way she held him like his mother never had.

'Please stay.' He whispered.

'I already promised I would. So long as this ring stays upon my finger, I shall forever be by your side.' She told him.

They stayed like that for a little while before Erik stiffly stood back up, squaring his shoulders and once more becoming the solid, strong man Christine knew he had never ceased to be.

'What would you like to do today, my dear, as that pesky Daroga has forbidden me from leaving the house?' He asked her, letting a shine of admiration gleam through the darkness of the room.

'Well, how about a singing lesson? It has been a while.' She offered. This seemed to please him as he nodded and stood somehow straighter.

At the doorway of his room, however, he paused. 'Christine,' he said in a suddenly small voice, causing her to turn round and see him looking at her doubtfully.

'Yes, Erik?' She asked, when he did not speak further.

'D-do I truly not scare you?' He asked, shrinking again.

She walked up to him until she was almost unbearably close. He felt his breathing quicken as he watched her carefully smile up at him. Thinking over her next words, she picked up one of his hands and pressed her palm flush against it. His fingertips curled easily over hers as their length far exceeded even her slender digits. She smiled more sweetly at this.

'Erik, You have never done anything to truly frighten me. Worry and shock me, yes, but never frighten. And as to your face,' she felt a tremor rush through his hand at this before softening her tone somehow more. 'Is simply another part of the man I have looked after for so long.' Placing her other hand on his cheek, he held it there, leaning into her touch just a fraction more and closing his eyes to the admittedly light pressure of her contact. 'You do not have to hide from me Erik, if you do not choose to.' She all but whispered, enjoying the feeling of his cheek beneath her hand just as much as he.

She let the moment last before taking both his hands and leading him over to the organ. He looked at her differently now. Gone was the river of doubt and fear of her betrayal or absence lurking in his orange-gold eyes. Now there was trust and happiness, and… _yes_. He confirmed it again. There was no mistaking it now. Not after everything they had endured. It was there just as it had been there the first moment he saw her. He had not realised it, and it had not been as strong then, but now it was there completely and it would never go away. Nothing could ever make it disappear. No boundary could come between it. He would cherish it and nurture it for all time, for it was his. Never in his life had he felt it before, but now it had come. And, looking up at his angel while he played for her, he found himself hoping it was hers too. He would be happy to carry it alone, and the idea of sharing something so precious frightened him terribly, but if she were to, he would be overjoyed.

* * *

After several hours, the lesson drew to a close, but Erik was too absorbed in the music to stop. He continued to sit at the organ, playing something that had started to evolve in his mind and through his long, skilled fingers. Christine, generally one to walk away when he started composing or playing his own pieces, instead sat beside him on the bench. She felt him tense as she neared and wondered if it would be too much for him.

Erik could not think or hardly breathe as he willed his fingers on in their dance across the ivory keys. He could feel her warmth beside him and her eyes upon his hands as they spoke untold wonders upon the instrument. He wondered what he had done to deserve such sweet torment when he felt the rush of it all contact his shoulder. He barely dared to, but his eyes betrayed him to look down to see her head rest against him. Her hands were temptingly close, but still curled innocently in her lap. She wanted to be near him, but not make him stop. She wanted to be near him! This thought nearly caused his fingers to falter. He continued playing, but could not shake the desire to simply turn and hold her to him. He could feel his arms aching to surround her and envelop her as they had earlier. He longed for that hollow in his chest to be filled with her. His cheeks wished to be buried in her soft hair and for his senses to be consumed by her scent and gentle touch. She was pure and true beauty.

'Erik,' she said suddenly, dropping him out of his haze of longing.

'Hmm?' He forced himself to answer.

'Do you ever wonder who I was before I became an angel?' She asked.

Erik felt his chest constrict painfully as his hands caught a sour note, making him cringe. This brought her concerned eyes to him. He knew the question on her lips and nodded in silent answer. He took a shaky breath, not being able to look in her cobalt jewels she called eyes.

'Christine,' he started, making his tone firm yet kind. 'I honestly do not care who you were before. I do not mean to sound cruel, but I am simply happy you are here now. There is no one I would rather have by my side than you.' He looked at her then to see her admiration that made him nearly gasp. He held it in to better savour the moment.

Turning her gaze back to the instrument, she let her fingers slide over the surface of the keys. He followed her movement with mesmerised awe. Her touch was so light and reverent. He found himself longing to feel it upon him once more. He had never in his life thought himself to be jealous of an instrument until now. He wanted her soft caress upon his skin and to feel her smooth cheeks against his. He wondered what her lips would feel like on his own.

Nearly leaping from the bench at this thought, he tried to turn and find a way to hide the flush which had arisen to his face. He found himself wishing for the cover of his mask as he felt the heat spread about his features. He only faintly heard her question as to his wellbeing over the rush of his pulse in his ears.

'I am fine, Christine. Perhaps you would like to do something else?' He offered, hoping for a way to get these inappropriate thoughts from his head.

She seemed to ponder this for some time, trying to find something for them to do together that would keep them below rather than in the Opera that was swarming with people hoping for his head.

'Would you read to me?' She asked, hoping this would please him. It did, and she was soon perusing his book collection for one of interest. Finally picking out one he often read, she handed it to him.

'This one?' He looked at it questioningly.

She nodded, humming. 'I see you with it a lot, but I cannot read the language.' She explained. 'I want to know what it says.' She told him with a timid shrug.

Erik found himself smiling at this and took a seat in his chair. To his heart's horror, she sat down at his feet, directing her face to the fire. He had expected her to sit in the accompanying chair, or perhaps stretch out like a cat on the sofa. It would seem that he would be doomed to endure the gentle torture of her proximity no matter what they did. He was grateful however, that with her back turned to him, she could not see his still flushed expression.

* * *

When the book was finished, Erik looked down at his angel. She had gone, partway through the book of Persian poems, to leaning on his legs and resting her head back against his knees. He had caught his breath when she had first done this, but grew used to it the longer she stayed.

At the final ring of his voice, Christine opened her eyes. It had been complete bliss to have his voice filling the air about her. She had heard him speak as anyone would, but to have him talk to her was still a novelty she did not wish to tire of. Leaning her head back further to look up at him, she smiled as he chuckled for her childlike behaviour.

'That was beautiful. Thank you.' She told him contentedly.

'Of course. Anything for you, my dear.' He smiled at her. He was about to delve back into the misty world of his admiration for her when a thought occurred to him. 'Christine,' his tone bringing her round to fully face him in her seat on the floor. 'Now that others can see you, would you consider joining the ballet corps? Or better yet, sing?' His growing excitement of the vision of her upon his stage, singing to a crowd of eager listeners, bringing them to tears for the utter majesty of her voice, brought a shine to his eyes.

'No, but Erik,' she called him back to reality. 'I do not think my limit on how far away I can be from you has changed.' She watched his brow darken with thought.

'We could find a way, my dear.' He told her earnestly.

She ducked her head some, nodding resignedly.

'Do you not wish to sing or dance on the stage?' He asked, confusion taking hold.

'Erik, you have to understand. For so long I could not be seen, even by you. I just never considered it a possibility, so I never thought about it.' She continued to look down, making him worry he had upset her somehow.

'But now that you can, would you?' He asked hopefully.

'Do you want me to?' She returned, glancing up to show the dread and slight fear in her eyes.

Leaning forward, he let his hands hover over her shoulders, taking a moment to consider whether or not touch her. Deciding against it, he removed them to rest his elbows at his knees. 'Christine, I want for you to be happy. I will not force you into something you do not want.' She cast her gaze elsewhere. 'You have not disappointed me.' He assured her. Her expression of surprise told him he had guessed her thoughts correctly. He smiled at her, soaking in every detail of her face.

She stood up, then, moving towards the kitchen before turning back to look at him. 'What would you like for dinner?' She asked, noting his cringe from the mention of food. She smiled, laughing at his stubbornness. 'You have to eat some time, you know. I will not have you wasting away from lack of sustenance.' She scolded.

He held out his arms, displaying how thin he already was. He looked up at her sceptically. 'Too late on that one, I'm afraid.' He told her with a hint of a grin.

Rolling her eyes, she went off to prepare something for him with the limited supplies he had. She had learned from years of watching him how to make certain dishes that he clearly liked. It worked out well now that she could do this for him.

Before long, she felt his presence behind her, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. She shot a glance back at him to see a bemused smirk on his lips.

'What?' She asked in his judgement.

'Just curious what you will make to feed a corpse.' He told her, chuckling airily.

Christine stopped what she was doing. 'Do not say that.' She muttered grimly.

'It was a joke, my dear.' He defended.

'It was not funny.' She replied solemnly.

He realised then that something was more wrong than he had assumed. Coming over to her, he extended his hand to touch her shoulder, but before he could, he was nearly knocked back by an unexpected embrace.

'Christine,' he gasped, feeling worry and happy surprise both at the same time. 'Christine, what is wrong?'

'Do not make jokes like that!' She yelled into his shirt. He found the muffling of her stern command slightly adorable, but hid his smile from her. 'It scares me to think that I might have…that you could have…' She could not finish.

Erik stopped, his face growing sullen at this. He felt her back shake and a dampness start where she had pressed her face into his chest. He hated to do it, but he pried her off him, leaning forward to meet her at eye level.

'Christine, no. No more tears. We have both shed far too many already. I will not have you crying over nothing. I am fine, you are fine, we are both safe here, and nothing is going to happen. You have not failed. On the contrary, you have kept this bony ass from dying more times than I want to consider. You have nothing to feel ashamed or worried about.' He told her firmly, meaning every word.

She hiccupped slightly during this as she tried to stop crying as he had told her, but the tears came unbidden.

'Christine, you are beautiful, intelligent, rather humorous, and kinder than any human could ever hope to be. There is nothing for you to cry about. I am here, and so are you. I will protect you with all I have, because I know you have done the same for me. Duty or not, I want you to know this. I would do anything for you Christine. Anything. Just ask it of me and I will move the earth to see it come true.'

She looked up and into the nearly glowing eyes of her dearest shadow. He had something within them she had never seen before. It was a desperation, yes, but also something more. For reasons she could not explain, it scared her while also thrilling her.

Nodding an agreement to his words, she found sanctuary back in his embrace. She waited until the rest of her tears had stopped and dried before daring to turn back to her momentarily abandoned task. This time he accompanied her, keeping a close watch to make sure she did not grow upset again. He worried for her greatly, but also realised how close he had come to telling her his most meaningful burden. It had perched itself on his lips, waiting to take wing, but he had refrained, afraid her then current state would not accept it. He would wait, bide his time until the right moment appeared. He could be patient, for her.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you kieriotakugirl for following this story, and to all of you readers who helped push Swan Song to 100 reviews! Wow! I am always amazed by the lovely reception my stories receive. I hope you enjoy this chapter as next week will be the final one for this tale.**

The following morning brought yet another visit from Nadir, who gave Erik a weighty glance and Christine a bright smile. This action only encouraged the glower coming from Erik, but Nadir cared little for the man's faintly jealous moods.

'Like a pest, he just keeps coming back.' Erik muttered as the Persian came in to greet Christine as though she were the old friend.

'Be nice.' She scolded, shooting him a glare that only made him grin darkly.

'Or what?' He challenged, leaning forward to stare down at her with a smirk.

She turned away from him and started a conversation with Nadir. It mattered little to Erik until it carried directly past him to the drawing room without so much as a glance his direction. He thought perhaps it was just him, but every time he tried to put himself in her line of sight, she just ignored him.

'Are you ignoring me?' He demanded of her, his frustration mounting.

No reply.

'Christine, look at me.' He commanded, gaining a slightly worried look from Nadir. 'Christine!' Erik shouted. He did not care that he was acting like a child. He could not take much more of it. It grated upon his nerves like nails on a chalk board. 'Christine,' his tone softened. 'Please look at me.' When this gentle pleading did nothing, he looked to Nadir plaintively, who only grew more concerned.

'Perhaps you should-' The Persian started to suggest before a yelp of surprise came from Christine as she was lifted from the floor and held captive in his strong arms. She wiggled a bit in protest, but quick gave up, settling to relent and look him in the eye.

'Are you ready to be nice?' She asked sharply. She stopped her sterner expression when she saw the more pitiful look come from him.

'Do not do that.' He told her almost pleadingly.

She nodded gently as he set her back down.

'Leave it to beauty to tame the beast.' Nadir muttered, shaking his head at what had become of the fearsome tiger of a man he had known Erik to be. Now the tiger was a kitten when in the hands of Christine.

'Oh, shut up, you old fart.' Erik scowled, still clinging slightly to Christine as she stood beside him. This earned him a mild smack in the chest and a sharp look from her. 'Do not make me pick you up again.' He warned her, though he knew the threat was empty.

She rolled her eyes. 'Why don't you two get out some of this over a game of chess, hmm?' She offered, hoping for a bit of peace, but knowing it would not come. These two were always going at each other. Well, Erik was always hard on Nadir, and Nadir simply let each blow slide off while secretly encouraging more. It was a battle of wits that only strengthened their relationship.

 _Men,_ Christine mentally sighed as she took a seat on the sofa to watch them play. She enjoyed their little jabs at each other while they played, knowing neither one were truly distracted enough to part their minds from the game.

'You may be happy to know,' Nadir said part way through the third game which he had a faint chance of winning. 'That the murder of Buquet went away rather quickly. No evidence was found to link it to you necessarily, and many had contested that the man had been drinking heavily that night. Madame Giry even vouched that it may have been a suicide. You were lucky, my friend.' He told the now wickedly grinning man he knew at this moment was more Phantom than human.

'You see, I told you it would all be well.' Erik confirmed darkly.

Christine chose this moment to rise from her seat to stand by Erik's chair. Neither man questioned this action until Nadir noticed she was giving pointed looks to a particular one of his pieces on the board. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the piece while also noting her expression as he moved it.

'I hardly think a few lies and convenient circumstances make up for it, Erik.' She told him.

He hummed noncommittally as she helped Nadir move yet another piece on the board.

Erik frowned at Nadir's improving plays. He had only ever lost to the man once when he was ill and severely distracted.

'Oh,' the Daroga perked up suddenly. 'I also heard that this latest murder is not going to hinder the upcoming masquerade ball. I assume you will be decidedly kept below for such a gathering?' Nadir offered more in wishful thinking than in actually faith.

'My friend, how you must confuse me for another. I always go to such events.' He said with mock-insult.

'Yes, but now you have Christine. Perhaps you shall have matching costumes. A Phantom and a Phantomess?' He offered with a laugh.

Erik felt the heat rise to his face. He had not considered taking her, but now that she was visible, he could not avoid it. Having this made her seem much more…real? She had always been real to him –when he believed her- but knowing he must accommodate her needs made her more so. It was almost like caring for a human.

'You needn't worry over it, Erik.' She assured from behind him, making him turn and look up at her over the back of his chair. 'I can just slip the ring off for the party.'

'Nonsense!' He all but roared. 'You shall join me and I shall have the most beautiful woman of all the world on my arm.'

'Angel.' She corrected more quietly.

'Beautiful.' He returned insistently.

'Checkmate.' Nadir put in with a smug smile.

Erik whirled round to see it was so. His mouth hung agape as the Persian grinned.

'How…?' The question was lost when he followed Nadir's gaze up and behind him once more. There he found a devilish grin awaiting him from his most innocent of angels.

'Thank you.' The Daroga nodded to her.

Erik turned his gaze sharper. 'You cheated.'

Christine held a hand to her breastbone. 'Impossible.' She scoffed. 'I was not the one playing.' She smiled back down at him, dark mischief hiding in her eyes.

Erik felt something within him move. Never before had he felt such a consuming hunger to overtake her pristine lips. The presence of the Daroga hardly mattered as his mind raced to wonder what her mouth felt like…tasted like.

'Perhaps you two should have a game.' Nadir suggested in his usual interrupting way. Somehow, no matter the situation, no matter who was there, that man interrupted. It could be Erik knee deep in music, about to put in the most important piece to a draft, or about to enjoy a nice relaxing book, the Daroga was there to come between him and his comfort. Now, he saw, with Christine it would be no different. He would have to endure these disturbances with her too.

'Clearly she knows how to play.' The Persian offered, rising from his seat.

'Yes, indeed.' Erik shot one last glance back at her, savouring her side grin at his look.

'Will you not stay, Nadir?' Christine asked, noting the Daroga's preparations for departure.

'I am afraid not, Christine, I have places to go and people to see, unlike Erik.' He put in at the masked man's eye roll.

'Would you prefer I go above and introduce myself to some of these people?' Erik retorted jovially.

Nadir shook his head, waving over his shoulder as he departed, leaving Christine and Erik once more to their lonesome.

After a heavy pause, during which Erik was prepared to have to go out and potentially save Nadir from the traps in the tunnels, he sufficed to look up at his angel again.

'Why did you not tell me you could play chess?'

'You never asked.' She replied, leaning over the back of his chair so far their noses almost touched, or, rather, her nose and his mask. He felt his breath come in light pants as she held herself so close to him. If he moved just a bit, he could claim her lips for his own. But he remained. He would never dare taint her with himself like that. He would be satisfied by her laughter, her embraces, and her nearly ever-present smiles.

'Shall we do as the Daroga suggested?' He gestured to the now empty seat.

'I suppose.' She plopped down in it, watching with idle fascination as his hands swept over the board, resetting it with effortless grace. She wanted to snag his hands and never let them go. They moved in such an enchanting manner it made her want them. She thought about holding them to her, letting them run through her hair and down her neck and throat. She stopped, realising these thoughts were not ones she should ever have.

 _You are an angel,_ she reminded herself. _Not a human. That time has passed for you._

Sighing inwardly, she prepared for the game ahead. She knew that even if he decided to be gentle, it would undoubtedly be a challenge.

'So,' she started as he had ironically allowed her the white pieces. ' _Are_ we going to the masquerade?' She looked up at him with what she hoped not to be too much expectation.

'Do you wish to attend?' He seemed surprised by her broaching the subject.

She shrugged evasively. He could not help but smile at this.

'I was not lying earlier, you know. When I said that you would be the most beautiful one there.'

She ducked her chin modestly, blushing slightly. 'I know.' She whispered.

They continued their game a little further, Erik finding her challenge quite equal to his own. He felt a bit of surprise and pride knowing he had found in his angel a real match to his chess-playing skills.

'What are you planning on going as?' She asked, knowing he generally had very interesting costumes.

'I had yet to decide. I considered the Red Death.'

'Poe?' She guessed, humming thoughtfully. 'I can see why you would like it.' She nodded agreeably.

'You have read it?' He looked at her in surprise until the obviousness of her look made him feel the fool.

'Many times, yes.' She laughed as he cringed from his thoughtless question.

'What did you wish to be?' He asked.

She shrugged again. Her indifference over herself had never ceased to frustrate him. Even when she cried for worrying over failing, it was still more about failing him.

'Perhaps an angel.' He smirked at her as she gave him a sceptical glance.

'A little too fitting, don't you think?' She asked, using some of his sarcastic humour.

'Hmm, you may be right.' He caught her eye again to watch her shake her head with a smile. 'What about a fairy, or maybe a bird, or-' He stopped.

Christine looked at him as he got a certain sparkle in his eye. It concerned her a bit when he grew silent like this. She knew he was planning something, and having her be the crux of it was not exactly settling to her mind.

'What?' She asked slowly and cautiously.

He tapped his closed lips with his finger, eyes still gleaming.

'What, Erik? Tell me.' She begged with a playful whine.

''Tis a secret.' He almost whispered, making her cross her arms stubbornly.

'Fine.' She admitted after a pause.

'Checkmate.' He told her, grinning like a cat.

She looked over the board and nodded. 'Yes, yes. You may return to your throne.' She smiled at him with a humouring glance.

'Not unless you are by my side.' He told her more seriously.

'If I did not know any better, I would say you were a romantic.' She raised an eyebrow at him.

'How is it you know better?' He questioned jokingly.

'Because you are far too busy being a genius, Phantom, and ruler of chess.' She giggled.

'Hmm, perhaps. But I would cast all aside if I could succeed in making you swoon.' He told her with a bit of theatrics.

'Such brazen overtures.' She gasped with playful drama. 'But I still must admit to being curious about your skill. I shall be the judge of your romanticism.' She held her head high as she challenged him.

Erik caught a bit of her mischief and ran. Taking a moment, he looked back up at her and started to sing. He watched her almost instantly relent to the power of his song, and he was quickly drawing her out of her chair. He met her, but did not touch as if contact would break the spell he wove about her. His music filled and controlled her as she gave in more and more. She barely heard the words, focusing instead on the melody as it washed over her and carried her far away. She drank in the sounds of his voice like one who had lived in a desert with no water. She looked up and over she shoulder to see him there, draping his arms oh so closely to her, but never even brushing the fabric of her still loaned pyjamas. His voice teased at her ear, making her head swim.

Their mouths neared, his warm breath ticking the skin of her lips and making her eyes flutter. Her hand reached up to hold his cheek, but just before they could touch, he stepped back, shattering the delicate web he had so artfully made.

Christine put her fingers to her lips as she looked away. He staggered back a few steps, both of them breathing heavily.

'Forgive me.' He gasped. 'It would seem I am not so skilled as I had thought.' He said, still feeling her being so close to him.

She could find no words. He had taken them and her voice with him. His music had enchanted and controlled her.

She could not even fully watch him as he left the house with a mutter of needing fresh air.

Christine could not believe how close she had come. His lips had been there, his hands tracing through the air all of the things she so darkly desired. She had been weak to his song. She had almost given in. No. She _had_ given in. She would not have protested if he had claimed her. She would have done nothing to stop him. She wanted it. She wanted him. It was wrong, but she could not find it within her to be right.

* * *

Erik had been outside for a while now, and Christine was starting to worry. Snapping her book closed –a book, mind you, that she had been pretending to read simply to not focus on her persistent thoughts of earlier- and grabbed his cloak before heading out to join him.

He was sitting by the lake, just staring at nothing when she came up to him. He only seemed to notice her when she caringly draped the cloak over his shoulders.

 _He may have his three-piece suit on, but he can still get cold,_ she thought as she lowered the fabric down and around him like a black cocoon. He wordlessly thanked her as she sat just beside him to look out across the inky waters, pulling her knees in a bit.

'Are you warm enough?' He asked, seeing her positioning.

'Hmm? Oh, yes. I am fine. I do not get cold.' She explained. 'Though I suppose I should have more care, I would hate to rip your pyjamas.' She looked down and about her at the admittedly smoothed rock.

Erik let out a soft chuckle. She looked at him questioningly as he shook his head. 'The things you worry about.'

'Well, you only lent them to me and I would hate to damage them. I do not mean to be an inconvenience.' She looked down as she said this in a small voice.

'Christine, you could never be an inconvenience.' He assured her.

'That is not what you thought when we first met.' She reminded him.

'No, but that was a long time ago, and things have changed since then.'

This seemed to deepen her gaze at the water. 'Things like how you feel about me?' She asked, not looking at him.

'Yes.' He told her, barely audible, but letting the word just brush her ear.

'Erik,' she sighed his name while somehow also choking on it. 'You know I am not human.'

'I do.'

'So, why do you attach yourself to me? I am not trying to leave,' she assured quickly as his eyes grew panicked. 'But I want to know.'

'Because of this.' He gestured to her. 'You, sitting here with me, listening to and caring about what I say. I have never had this before. With anyone. A-and you accept me. I do not pretend to know how, but you do. You see past all of this,' he gestured to his face. 'To see who I am, and I have never been given that chance. Not really. Nadir is wary of me, but you…you are completely comfortable with me. You do not fear or shun me…and I cannot help but wonder if it would be the same if you were human. If you had only just met me. If you could be hurt by me physically.'

'Erik,' she started, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

'It scares me, Christine. Every time I am near you, I expect you to run away. To leave me here alone. I keep waiting for your scream or your pleas for me to release you. I am afraid that one day you will simply no longer be here. More than that, I am afraid as to why that bothers me so. Everyone has always left me, but no has ever held me as you do, or smiled at me, or laugh with me. You are a wonder Christine, if you only knew.'

'Erik,' she tried again, this time actually touching him. 'I do not know what I was like as a human. Perhaps I was good, but there is a chance that I would have done all of the horrible things you fear I might. But none of that matters now. I am this me, and I will not leave you or tire of your company or ever wish ill upon your heart. Erik, I want to protect you. I would never do anything to hurt you. You do not need to be afraid.'

He looked at her with saddened eyes. 'Oh, Christine, if only that were true.'

'Why do you say that?' She asked, confused.

'I cannot.' He said, shaking his head slowly. 'Do not ask it of me.'

Not wishing to cause him pain, but also needing to know, she pushed. 'You promised you would do anything for me. You would move the earth to do as I asked.'

Erik felt the pain in his eyes filling the space between them. 'Let it wait until the masquerade. Please. Just…let it wait.' He begged and she nodded. He felt that weight come off his chest at this. Yes, let them have one last outing of fun before it all came crashing down.

* * *

Evening descended upon Paris, ushering the cooler, softer breezes of night. The deep Prussian blue that coloured the sky and everything around it was dotted with soft yellow glows of streetlamps. The softly greyed clouds further helped to darken the shadows, turning reds and greens to blacks. A soft misty rain descended upon the city, but it only allowed the colours to run together to paint an even more beautiful picture.

The cobbled streets shone in the limited light with their smoothly rounded stones jutting up unevenly. They seemed to glisten brighter than they should as they lines the streets and pathways through the maze of a city. Flowers in the parks, flowerboxes of homes, and renegade weeds poking through the paved sidewalks shimmered like diamonds as they proudly wore each drop of water on their closed buds and leaves that bend under the weight of the falling liquid.

In the grand Palais Garnier, however, not all was quite so peaceful. It was not chaotic by any stretch, but not all of the ghosts were left sleeping. Silently slinking through the shadows crept the dark mass that most would not see or immediately assume human. It moved more like a cat than a man and hid in the dark as only a ghost could. Its companion ruined this effect somewhat, though. Gliding beside him was a silvery being more bird than girl. She matched his flowing movements with a weightless ease that would make any dancer seem heavy. She drifted on the air around him, giving off her soft inner light.

They made their way through the corridors and secret passages they both knew so well, until they reach the costume room at the rear of the theatre. The black shadow sifted through some of the hanging dresses before selecting one of soft pink. Holding it out to his companion, she took it with ginger surprise.

'Here,' he told her firmly, keeping his voice low and smooth. She gave him a doubting look. 'Do not look at me like that. It is from an old production. No one will miss it.' He assured her, rolling his glowing amber eyes at her firm conscience.

Taking the garment over to the table that spread out in the middle of the room, she set it down to examine. Erik watched her carefully look over every piece of it, taking in all the details she could. He observed her face, calm and almost indifferent, yet admiring. She liked it.

'I will wait outside while you get changed.' He said, feeling awkwardly in the way.

He left her be and patiently stood by the door, back turned to it just in case. He found himself nervously looking at the ceiling. He was not sure why his stomach was in knots, but it was. Rocking back to his heels and then up a bit on his toes did nothing to assuage this. He wondered if the more he did for her the more human she might become. He knew it was wrong and cruel of him to think of her as if she were some cursed princess in a book, but he wanted her to be happy. She seemed to accept and smile upon their current arrangement, but he knew she was still holding back a good bit simply on the –annoyingly valid- grounds that they were not truly of the same species anymore.

 _This is what you get for reaching too far,_ the small voice in his head berated him. _She may not see you as one, but you are still a monster and she an angel. It will only end in ruin for your heart and she will feel guilty because of it._

He let his gaze drop to the wood planked floor. He remembered when they put this in. He saw the faces of the workmen who had slaved to make this monument to music and art possible. He wondered if they had ever considered him a monster. He had paid them well enough not to question him, but he had always felt their stares waver to him with uncertainty and fear.

He did not know why he cared so much. This was his life. It had always been this way. Paying people to not ask questions, hiding in the shadows to avoid the torment of others' eyes upon him, wearing a mask to avoid ridicule. Stares and fearful glances were always better than screams and hateful actions. But even the mask could not protect him from it all. His last adventure out of the theatre had proven that all too well. Yet, it had not been quite so terrible after all. He was able to meet his angel because of it.

'Erik?' He turned to see the seraphim in question dressed perfectly in the gown he had selected for her. 'How do I look?' Her concerned expression over his mood melted away to reveal the slightly excited and modest smile underneath.

'My dear, you are a vision.' He said, beaming broadly at her and looking her over.

Her smile brightened and so did the light she always shone with. Bouncing on her toes a bit, she hurried back into the room to return with his neatly folded pyjamas in hand.

Erik felt his heart leap into his throat as she held out the clothes to him. His mind was a flurry of questions that brought heat to his face. _Would they still be warm from her body heat? Would they now smell of her? Would he ever wear them again?_ Deciding the latter was a definite no, he haltingly took the bundle from her.

She turned to her shoulder modestly as he fought the emotions waring inside of him. Tucking the clothes, which were in fact still warm and held just the vaguest scent of her rosy starlight, into a pocket of his cloak, he offered his arm to escort her back to their home. _Their home._ That thought threatened to send him over the edge as the jolt of her touch raced through him. He wondered for his sanity and composure as they walked back. He would have to be careful with these new feelings as they were sure to grow beyond his control before too long.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Sorry this one's a little late, guys and dolls. I got wrapped up in school work and forgot to post it. Better late than never, right? Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy the final week of this story!**

The day of the masquerade came far faster than Christine could believe while Erik greeted its coming with anxious excitement. He wanted everything to be just perfect for his angel, though her presence alone made everything seem that much more wonderful.

They started off the day with a music lesson, which quickly showed that she had very little to improve upon. Her voice had already been sublime, but she just needed to put the proper emphasis into it. Her emotion was carrying better and her piercing gazes at Erik made him shiver. It was not out of fear by any means, simply that he felt their connection growing stronger with each note.

Eventually she slipped onto the bench beside him, once more leaning on his shoulder lightly as she watched his fingers move in their rhythmic dance.

'Would you teach me how to play?' She asked out of nowhere. He stopped to look down at her in surprise.

'You wish to play the organ?' He asked, shocked by this sudden request. She nodded against him. 'Very well.' He assented, knowing he could deny her nothing today.

Having her mimic his hand placement one octave up, she pressed down with him. She jumped back a bit in her seat beside him, making a hearty laugh bubble up from his throat.

'It takes conviction to play.' He told her.

'Apparently.' She said in a still startled voice.

Chuckling a bit, he placed her hands back on the keys, watching her expression remain miraculously the same as he touched her. He could not get over how soft her skin was on his, or how bolts of electricity seemed to course through the contact.

Trying again, he let her play about a bit. He matched her notes and even played off them to create small harmonies. She smiled up at him with each of these, making his heart soar. She started to lean into him a bit as she brought her hands to the other end of the scale, forcing him to let her come closer. He felt his breath reflect off the skin of her ear and felt her hair tickling his chin a bit.

He closed his eyes to this and bit his tongue as she giggled in her happy game. She sounded like a carefree child and he savoured every sensation.

Coming back to her original position, she noted his stiff stance and tense muscles.

'Are you well, Erik?' She asked, bringing him back to this world.

'Quite, thank you.' He assured, looking down and into her rich blue eyes. He felt like he could dive into them as though they were pools. He had begun to get lost when her hand found his cheek.

Bolting up from the bench, his hands resolutely clasped behind his back, he tried to think of something else to do.

'Care for a game of chess before we go above?' He asked, fidgeting nervously.

'If you would like.' She replied openly, noting his discomfort.

He sat down and kept his eyes determinedly on the board as he set up the pieces. He saw her peripherally take a seat across from him, tucking her legs up underneath her and leaning on the armrest to look at him like a cat willing their human to scratch them behind the ears.

'Your move.' He told her, leaning back to let the battle of wits begin.

They went back and forth, evenly matched. He watched her, trying to determine what she had planned, but her stare remained the same as it had been when she started. She cocked her head slightly as he realised he had been caught looking too long. He guiltily snapped his attention back to the board.

'Erik,' she asked more than said.

'Hmm?' He resisted the urge to look up.

'You have been acting strangely all day. And for the past few days, if I am being honest. Is something wrong?'

Erik tried to find a way to not show his nervousness over this. 'Strange how?' He dodged momentarily.

'Well, you do not seem to mind my touching you, but you will not let me too near. Have I done something to upset you?'

'No.' He answered rapidly. 'No, you could never truly upset me. I have just had things on my mind.' He somewhat lied.

'Like what?'

He let the silence hang for a moment. He wondered if perhaps he could just fade away without answering, but her persistent gaze held him in place. 'Just…dealings with the Opera, and my music.' He lied. In truth, the Opera could have burned for all he cared, and not a single note had offered itself to his masterpiece in some time now. He had been too focused on Christine and making sure he got the most out his time left with her. Perhaps she would not run or hide from him when he told her, but that was a thin strand of hope he did not wish to have broken just yet.

'Oh,' she said. She let him make his next move before reaching a decision. There was something she needed to know. She had guessed it for some time and had hinted at it a few days previous, but she needed it confirmed.

Rising from her seat, she moved her remaining piece directly in the line of fire for his.

'Christine, if you do that, I will win.' He told her, watching her move to stand beside the board.

'I know. I want you to.' She said indifferently. He frowned at her, but did as she said.

'Checkmate.' He looked back up at her to find his breath coming shorter. He leaned back to gain more space between them, but quickly found that to be a mistake as she closed the distance by coming to sit in his lap.

'C-Christine,' he found his brain flustered. 'What are you…?' He could not finish his question as she came and snuggled deep into his arms. He embraced her shyly as she continued to find comfort in his closeness. She waited for him to catch his breath, rubbing his chest through his white dress shirt in hopes of calming him. This only brought one of his hands up to stop her.

'Why are you doing this?' He asked after a few agonising moments of not knowing how to breathe or regulate his heartbeat.

'Do you dislike this?' She asked, looking up at him with innocently round eyes.

'I did not say that.' He countered, almost glaring at her suggestion.

'Have you found someone else, or something else you like better?' She tried, feeling a pit opening up within her.

'What? No. There this nothing on this earth I care more about than you, my dear. Now, why are you acting this way?' He pressed, leaning back more to find her eyes which she had turned into him at her last words.

'You have been staying so distant, I worried I had done something to upset you.' She admitted.

'Christine, I-' He stopped, realising that though he had been hungry for her company, he had scorned her contact. He had been wanting to stay distant so that he could keep some form of control. He was also terrified that one more touch before she most likely left him forever would cause him to break. He would become too hungry for her presence and potentially try to force her to stay. He would not allow that. He knew what it meant to be confined against one's will, and he would never subject his Christine to that.

'Oh, my dearest angel.' He finally gave in, holding her to him with protective arms. He rested his masked cheek against her hair and simply held her. 'Forgive me, my angel. Please, forgive me. I have been selfish and unfair to you.'

'Do not leave me.' She begged, mimicking so many of his pleas.

'How could I ever leave? I am stuck with you, remember?' He asked jokingly, but she only curled in tighter.

'Oh, no, my dear, no. Do not hide. There is nothing to worry about. I would never mean to push you away.' He held her just a fraction tighter. He felt her warmth pool inside him and grow stronger with each passing moment.

'I'm scared.' She finally admitted.

'Of what?' He poked his head round to find her eyes.

'So many things. I am afraid to leave you, but I worry I am ruining you by staying.'

'My dear,' he said softly, hiding his laugh. 'There is nothing for you to ruin that has not already been tainted in me.' He assured.

'Not everything.' She looked at him with knowing concern.

'Even if there is,' he solemnly brushed some of her curls from her face. 'It will be my fault and mine alone.'

After a time, she let her face rest more openly upon him as he continued to hold her. She hated how childish she was being, but she needed the security of his arms. Everything felt right when she was close to him. Though it was her job to look after him, it was only when his arms were protectively around her that she felt safe.

'Shall we prepare for the ball?' He asked, not truly wishing to let her go.

Nodding, she rose from him and watched as he waited for his legs to wake up. She muttered an apology for sitting there so long, but one look from him silenced her on the subject. She knew then that there was nothing he enjoyed more than having her so close, despite how harshly it thrilled him.

'I believe, my dear Christine, that you shall find your costume awaiting you in the bedroom.' He said, pointing to the door of the Louis-Phillippe room. He nodded her on encouragingly, barely restraining his obvious excitement.

When the door closed, he listened just long enough to hear her gasp, before going about getting himself ready.

He tried not to take too much time in his preparation, eager to see Christine in the costume he had picked out for her. He had tried to hide it subtly when they had gone up to visit and find her a new dress. He had spent a few sleepless nights since altering and making it perfect for her. Judging by her earlier gasp, she liked it well enough.

Exiting his bedroom, he waited a few moments before knocking on her door.

'Christine, do you like it?' He asked through the wood.

Silence.

'Christine?' He heard no reply. 'Christine, are you all right?' He asked, cautiously opening the door.

He found her standing with her back to him. She did not turn when he entered and he realised she was standing before the floor-length mirror he generally had hidden beneath a heavy cloth.

Coming to her side, he looked at her reflection. She was a pure vision. The dress was the deepest, richest blue possible, setting off her eyes spectacularly as the skirt was dotted with several hundred crystals all glittering like stars. The modestly dipping collar of the bodice was similarly speckled with a cluster of silvery crystals, curving to make a half-moon. Her long curls were somehow manageably swept up and only allowing a single strand of ringlets to slip down and over her shoulder.

He turned his gaze back on her face, which he now realised was frozen in shock with a few tears having rolled down her softly curving cheeks. He frowned, ignoring his own reflection for the time being.

'Christine, what is wrong?' He asked, reaching out to gently brush the middle of her back.

'I-I look…'

'Beautiful. Yes, you do.' He smiled broadly at her.

She shook her head, face crumpling for more tears.

'No, no. Do not start that all over again.' He told her, wrapping his arms about her shoulders. 'Not when you look so lovely.' _Though you look just as lovely when crying_ , he admitted in his mind.

She continued to shake her head, turning back to him. 'My reflection.' She muttered out as her eyes started to water.

'Yes, your-' He stopped, realising her words. He glanced up at the mirror to see her in it, then back at her plaintive stare. 'You have a reflection.' He said as if in a daze. He let out a surprised laugh at this.

'I am sorry.' She said, trying to bury her face in his chest, but he held her back to look at her confusedly.

'Why? What on earth have you to be sorry about?' He asked her with growing worry.

'I wanted to be pretty for you.' She moaned.

Erik continued to look at her perplexedly. 'Christine, I do not…' He shook his head, at a loss.

'I wanted to look special to make you happy.' She tried to explain.

'You do look special. You look beautiful. In fact, you look more than beautiful. You are absolutely gorgeous, Christine. I do not know what I did to deserve such a lovely angel.' He showered her with compliments. He wiped clean her cheeks with his thumbs before turning her round to look again in the mirror. 'Your eyes are the most breath taking shade of blue, you lips like pink flower petals, you nose adorably pert, your chin pointed but soft, your skin flawless, and your hair tantalizingly curly. Christine, it is all I can do to remain beside you for fear of tainting your magnificence with my ungodly form. You are an angel above all angels. Christine, only a fool would not think you beautiful, and you are no fool.' He told her, hiding himself slightly from view of the mirror.

'You really see all of that?' She asked as if trying to see it too. She turned her head in hopes that this great vision he spoke of so ardently was merely shying from her.

'I do.' He confirmed. 'And it would be my greatest honour to ask you to join me at the ball this evening.' He said with an illustrious bow, offering his hand to her.

She giggled slightly at his theatrics. 'A pleasure, Monsieur le Fantôme.' She replied, setting her blue gloved hand in his.

He beamed at her as he straightened, slipping her delicate hand in the crook of his arm with all the ease of a magician.

He escorted them out and across the lake, paddling the boat with regal grace.

'I am curious, though,' she said from her seat behind him. 'What is the famed Opera Ghost going as this evening?' She asked, noting his attire no different than any other day apart from the change to a black shirt and mask.

'Your shadow, Mademoiselle L'Ange. I am to be the shadow that admired the moonlit sky above.' He said in his smoothly resonant tone that sent a shiver up her spine. She was lucky he had his back turned and could not see it, for she felt the distinct heat of a blush accompany it.

They landed at the dock, Erik always there to help her join him. He took her hand once more in his arm as they made their way up and into the Opera. He took them through to Box 5 where they observed the ruckus of one of the Palais Garnier's renowned masquerade balls. People were everywhere, packing every available inch of the floor and all shouting at the tops of their lungs to be heard over the music and other revellers.

Christine watched with Erik as they observed the many insanities of the race called humans. There were people hiding in other boxes doing unspeakable things, some on the floor committing similar acts, and all for the excuse that they had masks to hide themselves. No impropriety could exist when identities are not known by anyone but themselves. Here in this riot, all modesty was lost.

Taking a seat beside him, Christine stole a glance at Erik. He seemed darkly amused by all that was going on, but held any judgement aside.

'Erik,' she said loud enough so that her voice would not be washed away. He looked to her instantly, eyes shining golden. 'Do you wish to join them?' She asked. His expression of disgust made her laugh before explaining. 'I meant walk among them. This is the one night where no one would think twice about your mask.'

He seemed to consider this a moment. 'Only on one condition.' She cocked her head to the side. 'That you will remain unmasked and beside me. I want to be myself if I am to do this. And you as you always are, by my side is the only way I might achieve it.'

She smiled at him and nodded. 'I will always be by your side.' She promised. He had provided no mask for her, so the main part of the condition remained moot. She knew what he meant, however. He did not wish for her to pretend to be anyone but her. Not that she ever would.

Exiting the Box, Erik carefully locked the door behind them. He did not wish for his private seats to be defiled by the revellers about. They pushed their way through the crowds to find themselves at the grand staircase, standing at the top of the stairs and looking out over the sea of colourfully dressed party-goers. There were white and black dominoes, animals of different sizes and breeds, more than one king and court, and many more of undiscernible theme. One thing was certain, however, none looked as beautiful to Erik's eye as the angel of night beside him.

They beheld the insane joyousness below for a moment or two before making their way off to the Grand Foyer to see how it glittered and shone in the light of its many chandeliers. It was part way to this room that a mass of people pushed Christine backwards and Erik forwards, breaking their hold upon each other. Calling out to him seemed useless as he knew she was missing and the noise level was too great for much to reach anyone. She decided to hold her ground as best she could and wait for him to ride a swell of humans back to her. That was when an eerily familiar voice sounded behind her.

'Christine?'

She whipped round as the voice had been at her ear. It was the only way it could have been heard, she realised, but it was beyond frightening to not recognise the man who stood before her. He was gazing at her as though she were part of a dream.

'I am sorry, but who are you?' She asked, instinctively edging away a bit.

'Christine, is it really you?'

'Do I know you, Monsieur?' She looked him up and down a moment. He had a strong jaw and soft, pale blue eyes. He looked to be in his earlier forties but his hair was still a dusty blonde and his face had minimal lines, though he did seemed to have suffered some intense grief once.

'Christine, it is me, Raoul!' He assured her, stepping closer and looking desperately at her for any sign of recognition.

'Raoul?' She asked, squinting at him as something teased the back of her mind.

He seemed to scan the crowd a moment before taking her arm and guiding her over to a quieter nook. She was too confused to think much on it until she found her eyes being met with his.

'Christine, I cannot believe it is actually you. You do not look a day over twenty. How are you alive? I buried you.' He bemoaned, almost close to tears, but also growing frightened.

'Raoul,' she said it slowly, feeling the familiarity toying at her.

'You do not remember, do you?' He suggested. She shook her head in response. 'Christine, I was your fiancée twenty years ago. I thought you dead.'

Something in her clicked at this. She remembered now. She remembered it all. He had proposed in the park and they were to be married, but a few weeks before the wedding there was an accident.

'Raoul, oh, Raoul, forgive me for not recognising you! It has just been so long!' She practically wept.

'Christine,' he cooed her name, pulling her into his arms.

From across the sea of people, Erik looked over the multitude of heads to find his angel. At last he happened to glance over to the side of the room in a small corner to see her…talking to a man. His heart leapt to his throat and he took quick yet unsure steps towards her until she saw her embrace the stranger who was now holding her like a long-lost prize. He heard her speak a name, and his stomach dropped. His feet froze in place as his mind spun in several directions at once. Then, curse of all curses, he saw her kiss this handsome man on the lips. Rather, he had pulled her into it, but she was not exactly protesting. Staggering over to a wall for support, he felt the room tilt and go red.

His blood boiled as he thought of that fop kissing _his_ angel! He was about to rush over to her when he heard her next words somehow drift over the cacophony of the crowd. It was as if his ears could only hear her.

'Raoul, I have missed you, but-'

'I have missed you, my sweet Christine. Come, let us leave here. We have much to talk about and catch up on.' He started to pull her away and Erik closed his eyes. If there was a distance bond between them anymore, this would certainly put it to an end. She would leave here with that handsome man and never give a second thought to her poor, unhappy Erik. It would all be over and he would die knowing that at least for a while, he had been able to love her. No, he would always love her, but he could not continue on without her. He turned away, not being able to take any more of the happily reunited couple any longer.

'Raoul, I can't.' She pulled back on his insisting hold.

'But Christine-'

'No, Raoul. Our time came and went. Please forgive me, but you must learn to accept it; to move on. I am an angel now and must look after…someone else. Please try to understand. I know it does not make sense, but know that I did truly love you all those years ago.' She said, breaking free from his grasp and disappearing into the crowd. She could still hear his distraught cries as she tried to keep her vision cleared to find her shadow; her Phantom.

Erik felt something brush his arm, but only moved the limb sharply away to keep it from being caught on some horrid masquerade partier. When he felt it again, he rounded sharply on the being, raining fire in his eyes down upon them and looming over like a great black god of darkness. That is, until he saw the cobalt eyes that were brimming with unshed tears. It felt like someone had taken all wind from him as he saw her shrink slightly from his gaze.

'Take me home, Erik. Please. I want to go home.' She barley murmured it, but he heard it as if she were shouting.

He nodded dumbly and felt her arm loop in his, though he did not give the contact much thought as they made their way through the crowd.

Christine tried to hide her tearstained face in his arm as she clung to his hand like a lifeline, but he only took it from her to open the door to Box 5. Once in, she dared a glance at his face but it was even more unreadable than normal with the mask. His eyes did not stray from their task of leading her down below through the cellars and coldly helping her into the boat. He barely assisted her in getting out which frightened her to no end.

'Erik,' she said in a small voice as they entered the house. 'Erik, are you angry with me?' She asked, but he did not answer. He went straight to his room and did not even bid her goodnight before securely closing the door.

Going to her own room, she undressed and slipped into the pyjamas he had decided it be best she keep. Coming back out into the drawing room, she found it to be empty. She waited upon the sofa, thinking perhaps he was just taking his time getting out of his costume –though truly it was not all that different from his regular clothes.

After a few hours, she resigned herself to her room and lay upon the soft mattress, gazing up at the ceiling and finding her discovery tonight swirling insistently in her mind.

She had remembered so much. Her father's name was Charles, he had been a travelling violinist, and she had been born in Sweden. She had met Raoul Vicomte de Chagny as a child when he had run into the sea to fetch her red scarf that the wind had so cruelly blown from her. They were apart for many years until they happened to meet again when she moved to Paris after her father had died. Raoul had quickly charmed her and they were soon engaged, though his family made some protest as to her social standings. They were going to be married until one day they were out walking and she saw a man was about to be hit by a carriage. She had run out to help him, pushing him out of the way, but she did not remember what happened then. She suppose she was hit instead and died.

These memories hurt to think about now, but she knew she must remember them. They were hers, after all. They reminded her of who she had been before…

Sitting up in bed, she heard a strain of music coming from the drawing room. Dressing in her powder pink dress, she cautiously ventured out to find Erik with his violin perched reverently beneath his chin and his back decidedly to her. She realised now that it was morning, the whole night having been consumed in her thoughts. She listened to his music and felt a warmth grow in her, despite his cold demeanour. She had always adored it when he played this particular instrument, but now she fully understood why.

'You play like Papa did.' She whispered, making him stop harshly. He lowered the bow and violin, but refused to face her.

'I remember,' she said, stepping out a little farther into the room. 'He would play for hours just for me. He would tell me stories and fill my head with little poems and songs. I would sit with him every evening to hear his music.' She explained, eyes glossing somewhat at the memories. 'You would have liked him. And he you.' She added, flicking her eyes up to his tensed back.

'Erik, please talk to me.' She begged him, reaching up to run her hand down his taught shoulder blade. He stepped out of her reach and over to the organ. She waited as he gently set down his violin and took up the ivory keys in slow, melodious woe. He played with heartbreak and incomparable sorrow.

Coming over to stand behind him, she let the music wash over her. It was sad and lonely and oh so broken. She felt the tears threaten to start all over again but willed them back. She did not wish to cry this away again.

'Stop.' He ignored her and continued. 'Please, stop.' She begged a little harder. 'Erik, stop, please. I cannot take much more of this.' She reached out and grabbed his hands, holding them above the keys.

'Neither can I.' He looked at her with coldly barren eyes. He ripped his fingers free from her hands and rose from the bench to walk off towards the kitchen.

'Erik,' she chased after him, snagging a hand again. 'Why are you acting this way?' She begged of him. He refused to turn around.

'Why do you not ask you precious Vicomte? I am sure he would never be so cold and dull.' His voice did not sound like his own. It was harsh and mechanical, cutting away his silky purr.

'What? Erik, what are you talking about? What is going on?'

He rounded on her then, full height and intimidation restored as he burned her much like he had the previous night.

'Is it so hard to guess, _my dear_?' He spat the name he had often used so caringly. 'I saw you and your lover last night. I saw your embrace and your…' He felt once more like all of the air had been leeched out of him. 'Kiss.' He finally finished, fighting to keep his head held high.

These words hit her hard, bringing her to shake her head.

'And now you remember your past. Now you know what I so selfishly kept hidden from you for so long. Now…you will leave the monster.' He turned away, not being able to even consider looking at her.

'Erik, you are not a monster! There is nothing you could have kept hidden from me.' She insisted.

'I was there.' He said almost too quietly for her to hear.

'You were where?'

'I was there the day you died.' He admitted, feeling the pain welling up in him. He would surely break soon. 'I saw your lifeless body bleeding out onto the street and I…I ran. I could not…Oh, Christine, you were so beautiful then, just as you are now. Your hair fanning out around your head. Your impossibly blue eyes staring at nothing. I knew you were dead the moment I turned round, but if it had not been for your fiancée racing over I would have stayed. I would have held you, and though I did not know you, I would have wept over you.' His tears made soft spats on the rug covered floor.

'How were you there?' She asked, her mouth almost unbearably dry.

'Because I was the man who cost you your life. You pushed me out of the way. Your selfless act cost you your life and future. I lived while you died. That is why Heaven bound you to me. This is proof of God's hatred of me. He wanted me to suffer knowing I would be looked after by the girl who foolishly ended her life to save mine.' His shoulders hunched and his legs wondered how they were still standing.

Christine backed away, her hand which had floated in a motion to comfort him, paused by his words, now came to her mouth to hold in the hysteric gasps.

'I had Nadir find out who you were. I remembered the instant I saw the obituary report. I could not tell you. I could not lose you. I…' He turned to see her eyes glossed over with freely running tears as she slowly shook her head. This made his knees give out as he crumpled to the floor. He clutched the hem of her dress and held it to his eyes as he wept.

'Forgive me, Christine!' He cried, enough to make any heart crack from the pain in his voice. 'Forgive your Erik for hurting you! He never meant to, he swears. He-he loves you. I love you, Christine!' He sobbed her name, kneeling before her as she watched with abject horror as he unhinged his already limited control over his sanity. Tears now streamed down her face as she observed his complete self-destruction.

Unthinkingly, she started to back away, no longer recognising the pool of tears that was the man before her. He watched with somehow growing despair as her dress slipped from his skeletal fingers. Then he heard the most awful sound he could imagine. A distinctive thudding clink echoed through him as he saw a small gold band bounce along the floor to him. He had nothing left now. All was gone and destroyed because of his own foolishness and selfish actions. He had lost his angel. There would be no requiem for him, no completion of his magnum opus. Nothing. He would slip quietly away, he vowed. She would be free and he would cease to be. All would be settled and right with the world without him there to mar its surface with his pestilent existence. Perhaps now God would be kind and allow Christine some peace to join her father in Heaven.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Oh, and aren't I a cruel mistress? Making you all wait so long. This, I fear shall also be the final chapter for this story. It has been a challenge from beginning to end, but I hope that despite everything, you all have found it within yourselves to enjoy it. Thank you to all who have reviewed, favourited/followed this, and may find it possible to do so after this chapter is written. I shall promise another tale sometime soon (as I doubt I shall stop after even it is finished) and hopefully it will feel better in writing than this one ever did. Thank you all again, and I hope you enjoy!**

Christine sat by the edge of the lake, hugging her knees to her chest and sobbing freely. He had finally said it! He loves her! But conflictingly, he also told her how she had died. It had been to save him. All her existence, in both human and angel form she had been saving him repeatedly. Why had God found it within him to be so cruel? Why must she spend her selflessly won eternity in paradise looking after the man who unknowingly cost her mortal life? He did not even want to live!

She felt her breath hitch at this.

He did not want to live…without her. Because he _loves_ her.

She sensed a whole new wave of guilt and pain wash over her as she realised what she had done. She had turned her back on the man who had offered her a life outside of this confining care, and for what? To shun the affections of her long-time companion who needed her so desperately he could not imagine life without her. She felt a wretch for turning away the tearful confession of her charge, friend, and…

She shook her head from this. He would certainly never accept it if she told him. But holding it in any longer seemed far too painful. She did not love Raoul any longer. She wondered, when Erik had existed in the world, how she ever could. The Vicomte was kind, generous, and undoubtedly handsome, but he was unspeakably dull. He was everything he looked like. You knew from the moment you met him that he would never change one iota. He was virtuous as she once was (and potentially still was), so he held none of the darker depth that Erik always had. Erik was temptation begging her to open her eyes to the possibilities of the world. He was the hand in the shadows that would safely guide her, but that always held the allowance for letting go if he so chose. Compared to Erik, Raoul was a mere child of innocent fantasy, and she hoped that he found someone who would forever love the storybook prince.

Gazing back at the house, Christine felt the pull to be by Erik's shadowy side. It felt safe and right to rest in his arms. His attempts at wooing her had done more than set her mind adrift in the sea of his flowingly soft words. He had awoken something within her that would not sleep. She wanted to feel that always. She knew he would never harm her or purposefully endanger her. He would look after her as she had him for so many years and think nothing of it. He would do anything for her, so long as she remained happily by his side.

She saw now the truest depths of his love. Perhaps once she would have turned them aside in preference to the light, but being around Erik had showed her the darker side of the world. She was older now; more mature. She cared not for the lying fantasies of childhood. She wanted to face the horrors of this earth with her Phantom by her side.

Yes, he had lied to her, but he had done so because he loved and needed her so desperately. If he had told her sooner, would she have acted any differently than she had now? Would she have shunned him so callously? This thought echoed within her as she looked down to her empty finger. She had discarded his ring as she had turned away his love. She was a monster for doing that to one who had never loved so truly before. Erik only knew the extremes of emotions, and she had thrown them back in his face with cruel denial. She may have broken him for good. How could she?! She loved him and he loved her! She was horrible for treating him this way in her shock.

Rising slowly from the bank of the lake, she set her shoulders, prepared to face the anguish, fear, and impossible sorrow she knew he was now suffering due to her cold leaving. She felt the cool air touch her lungs one more time before entering his home. She only hoped that their bond could be salvaged now that she had cast him so wickedly aside from her own fear.

'Erik?' She called upon stepping into the empty drawing room. 'Erik, where are you?' She asked of the odd stillness that consumed the air.

She heard just the faintest of noises coming from the Louis-Phillippe room and cautiously went over to the door which stood fractionally ajar. Pushing on it with another call for his name resting upon her lips, she felt her heart skip a beat and her throat choke. Her head swam as she beheld the room.

Erik lay, slumped against the wall opposite the door with his arms stretched limply by his sides. The mirror which stood beside him was almost empty of its glass. Instead, the silvery shards littered the floor. All of this she endured until it came to the almost blinding red that was found about in too great a quantity. It spread across the floor, stained the edges of the glass equally scattered about, and most frighteningly: ran like rivers from his opened wrists.

A strangled cry escaped her as hysterics instantly set in as she rushed to him. Her hands fluttered about him uselessly as he lay unresponsive to her sobbing gasps and frantic eyes.

'Erik!' She screamed as all sense loosed itself from her mind.

His eyes tiredly opened a bit to regard her.

'I had not meant for you to see this.' He said in a wearily droll voice. 'I am sorry if it upsets you.'

Christine looked at him in horror-filled shock a moment before she could find words to reply. 'Of course it upsets me!' she all but screamed at him. 'Erik, why would you do this?' She wept now, looking over his limp form.

'I wanted to set you free. If I am dead, you will no longer have to look after me. I-I love you.' He put the last in for reasons even he could not fully explain.

Whimpering slightly, she took what only now occurred to her to be his mask-less face in her hands, rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs. She shook her head as she tried to find her voice.

'I never once regretted looking after you. I have never wished for anyone else to spend my time with. There is no one on this earth who means so much to me as you do, Erik.' She told him, bringing her forehead to his. She saw the faintest flicker of a smile play sadly at his lips.

'I love you.' She whispered before doing the one thing he had never expected possible. She kissed him.

Even against his blood drained state, his eyes widened in shock as she pressed her perfect lips against his. Her breath teased with his and her mouth tasted sweet. Her fingers wove through his hair, pulling his face further into hers as her kiss deepened. He felt his own hands come up her slender back, toying with the curls of her long hair that hung just about elbow length.

Her lips seemed to slow and then leave his own as her head slid sideways before falling limply to his shoulder. He just managed to catch his breath enough to lose it again looking at her. She lay in his arms, eyes closed and heavy as not a breath stirred her chest.

'Christine?' He called to her, panic quickly rising. 'Christine?!' He shook her a bit, letting his hand come up to support her hanging head.

His fervently scanned her wilted form before his eyes landed on the two slits in her wrists. His heart stopped as he looked at his own to find them healed as though they had never been cut at all.

'No!' He roared, pulling her to him and sobbing instantly into her chest. He felt his tears pool at the dip of her collarbones and trail down her breastbone. He could not think or hardly breathe aside from the wailing tears that somehow escaped him. He had done it. He had ruined her by his vile touch. He had killed the most beautiful creature to ever grace the earth with his own hideousness. Her words before the kiss burned at his ears. How long he had hoped in his dreams to hear them from anyone, and now he had them forever seared in his memory by his angel.

'Christine, please wake up! Please!' He called to her lifeless body still cradled in his shaking arms.

Looking up at the ceiling he sent up his first prayer. He knew if she could have heard him, so must another angel. 'Take me! Please! I do not want to live without her! I cannot…' He looked down at her beautiful face, now slack and gently resting at his shoulder. 'Live without her.'

'You would ignore her sacrifice?' A voice said from somewhere in front of him. Erik looked up to see nothing.

'I cannot and do not wish to continue on if she is not here.' He told the air about him. 'I love her.' He added with a tearful glance back down, wiping away a stray curl from her face.

'And she you, it would seem.' The voice seemed to pause for deliberation.

'Yes, though I do not know how. She claimed that she did love me.' Erik said into the silence.

'I can bring her back, but,' the voice put in quickly at Erik's frantic look. 'You must swear to never try to harm yourself again. And,' it added once more. 'You must promise to let her go to decide what kind of life she will wish to live, for I cannot bring her back as an angel. She will be human.'

Erik felt tears run down his face all over again at this, holding his Christine to him.

'Do you still want her? She will be weaker and a little broken.' The voice told him, its tone suggesting it expected him to reject the deal.

'No,' Erik looked down at her with full admiration. 'She will be what she has always been: my angel. Nothing will change that because nothing ever has. Just as nothing will ever make me love her less.'

'Then I give you the power to revive her, if you choose.' The voice told him as it faded away to nothing.

Erik looked about the room one last time as if searching for the being he knew he would never see. Turning back to his most precious gift from Heaven, he rubbed his thumb lightly over the curve of her cheek.

'Christine,' he called to her as if trying to wake her from a deep sleep. 'Christine, my love, my dear, please wake up. Please come back to me, my darling angel.' He beckoned to her, but she remained still and silent. Leaning in a bit he felt his lips tremble. 'I will love you forever, even if you never forgive me.' He promised before letting his lips touch hers.

He felt a breath rush through her as she gasped, eyes flicking open to reveal his long favourite colour of blue. She blinked a few times before setting her gaze upon his.

'Erik?' She barley needed to ask as he let out a cry and pulled her to him, sobs starting anew.

'Forgive me, my love! Forgive your Erik! He never meant to hurt you ever. He would never…Oh, Christine!'

She nestled her head next to his, her hands once more returning to his hair and savouring their dark silken depths. It somehow felt better now, though she was not sure why. It was as though she was feeling it all for the first time again. His sobs shook through her a bit and his breath was a little louder at her ear. Her legs felt tired, but she coiled them closer to him nonetheless as she felt his protective embrace tighten just a bit.

She let her voice, now somewhat foreign to her own ear sooth him and she mixed hushes with her gentle touch.

'Shhh, Erik. It's all right. I am here. I forgive you, my love. I forgive you as I always will.' She assured when he seemed to be calming down slightly.

'Do you still love me?' He asked, pulling back to look her in the eye.

'Of course I do.' She smiled oh so sweetly as she caressed his cheek, watching him lean into it with a sigh. She paused, her smile faltering as a chill ran up her spine.

'Erik,' she said in a concerned voice. His stomach dropped at her tone and he became frantic once more. 'I feel strange. I feel…cold, but you are warm.' She looked distantly between them for a moment before finding the simple solution to the problem and crashing her body the few centimetres of space left into him. She wrapped her arms about his neck and buried her face into the dip between his neck and shoulders.

'Please hold me. I do not know why I feel so cold.' She begged.

Gasping only slightly at her sudden contact, Erik happily obliged.

'Why do I feel this way? What happened?' She asked, finding his eyes and seeing how tired they were yet still filled with too much emotion to possibly think of rest now.

'Christine, I made a promise to an angel to be good and he brought you back to me.' He explained. 'Only, my dear,' he paused here to gain some kind of wall to hold up when she reacted to his next words. 'They could not bring you back as an angel. You are human, my love.' He looked at her as her eyes widened in shock.

'I'm human?' She asked in disbelief.

Erik nodded, his eyes brimming slightly. He watched her as she tried to soak all of this in. He felt her pull a little away, or perhaps it was him, he could not tell. A weight seemed to take over her eyes as she slowly let them draw up to his.

'You do not have to remain here. You can have your life back with your Vicomte in the sunlight. You need never think of me again.' He said, drawing inwards a bit.

Before he could say a word, she let her tears overcome her, sobbing freely into his chest. He looked at her confusedly as she grasped him desperately as if he would slip away at any moment.

'Christine,' he tried to sooth her, but she was going into hysterics all over again. 'Christine, what is wrong?'

'I'm-not-your-an-gel-anymore!' She said, her words catching between sobs. He was confused as to why this upset her so until he heard her next words. 'You-don't-want-me-e.' She continued, burying her face into him. He felt it knock the wind out of him, leaving him as breathless as she was.

'No, Christine,' he pleaded, holding her streaming face in his trembling hands. 'I love you. I want you to be happy. I am letting you go. That is what love means, letting the person go so that they can be happy, even if it is not with you.' He explained. 'Of course I want you. You are my angel and you always shall be.' He assured, pulling her into his embrace and nestling his cheek in amongst her curls. He felt her sobs take on a happier tone, though they continued for some time. He felt his own tears roll down his uneven face as each wracking sob made her shiver in his protective embrace. It bit him to the core to know he had caused her so much pain. Her first few moments of returned mortality should have been filled with happiness, not uncontrollable sorrow. He felt guilty for that.

'I love you, Erik. I want to stay with you. Please do not make me leave you.' She begged. 'I could not live being apart from you. Not after all this time. Not now that I love you.'

Shifting just a bit, he lifted her up into his arms, standing with minimal difficulty, and walking to the drawing room to sit on the sofa with her curled into him. He sat there, as if in a tearful daze as she continued to cry into him. He savoured each any every sensation she brought out in him, despite how woeful the circumstances.

'Christine,' he whispered softly in her ear once she had begun to calm down. 'I will love you for all eternity, and though I may not understand it, I will never shun your love for me. You are my greatest gift and treasure. I intend to treat you as such.' He told her, pulling back as she met his gaze.

'I want only you, Erik. Forever.' She told him, pulling his head down to rest on hers. She stayed like that a moment, letting her forehead meet his. She felt both of their breathing calm before she looked back up into his amber eyes.

She took a moment of just gazing at him before her mind came up with an interruption. 'Am I still beautiful to you now that I am human?' She asked, looking at him doubtfully.

In answer, he simply pulled her forward into a kiss. Her lips against his felt so perfect he found he could not have breathed if he tried. Her mouth was sweet like honey and her rosy scent threatened to consume any rational thought. He let his hands glide up her sides, one coming to entangle itself in her mess of dark chestnut curls. He felt her own come to rest at the back of his head, her arms rising and dipping as their kiss intensified. Her chest pressed against his as his hand slid down to press the small of her back closer to him.

Breaking for air, they sat there gasping as he rested his head to her neck and breathed in at her collarbone. His breath tickled at her skin, but she did not dare move him. He felt the wonderful vibration of her voice in her throat as she hummed thoughtfully.

'Did you finish your _Don Juan Triumphant_?' She asked, puzzling him to no end.

'Actually, yes. I put the last note down yesterday morning.' He said, feeling a wash of pride over being able to say this.

'Good,' she said, continuing to confuse him. 'Because now I get to pay you for it.' She said, pulling his face back up to meet hers in the most passionate of kisses yet. His mind swam as she worked what he was sure was magic upon his lips, trailing over his cheeks as he ducked down to nip at her neck, savouring the little hums she emitted at his overtures.

'My beautiful angel.' He sighed between kisses as he worked back up to her lips. He felt her smile as he devoured her in guiltlessly hungry passion.

Where once was emptiness and despair now resided love and passionate devotion.

 _Love: unselfish, loyal, and benevolent concern for the good of another; the object of attachment, devotion, or admiration_


End file.
